


The Frog Prince

by Clea2011



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Canon Era, Character Death, Druids, M/M, Muteness, Physical Disability, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 58,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2193282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clea2011/pseuds/Clea2011
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Canon era AU. A teenage Arthur is hit by a mutation spell intended for Uther.  Unable to speak and hidden away by his father because of his appearance, Arthur is left lonely and isolated.  A few years later Gaius takes on a new apprentice, someone who can understand Arthur and see through the enchantment.  Someone with magic.</p><p>But breaking the spell was never going to be easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [[授權翻譯] The Frog Prince](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8485579) by [robinsonola](https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinsonola/pseuds/robinsonola)
  * Inspired by [ART - The Frog Prince](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2169492) by [Tarlan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan). 



> Tarlanx has done some gorgeous artwork for this. Don't forget to go to her [art masterpost ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2169492)and leave some love. ♥
> 
> Huge thanks to Deinonychus_1 for the massive beta job when I finally got the first draft finished. Thanks also to her and to Celeste9 for being extremely supportive whilst I worried and fretted about it for months on end.♥
> 
> Written for the [After Camlann Big Bang at Livejournal ](http://aftercamlann.livejournal.com/) \- many thanks to the mods there for organising this so well.♥
> 
> (also fills the wild card square on my hc bingo card - unwanted transformation)

 

Arthur was fifteen when it happened.

It was, in fact, his fifteenth birthday. His father was holding a feast in his honour, which was something he had started to do once Arthur had begun his teenage years. As he grew older, Uther had told him, the feasts would grow more elaborate. For his sixteenth he would be given one of the castle whores, the best of them, to enjoy and learn his own tastes from. When it was his seventeenth he would have a bed slave purchased, of his choosing, his to do with as he wished. After that he would have better judgement of his own tastes, and any depravity following the feast would be on the prince's own instruction. Uther had told him of the way this had gone for him, how his own father had allowed it, how enjoyable it all was.

Arthur nodded sagely and surveyed the laden tables. He was uninterested in the whore, he had already had it made plain to him that he could have any of the servants whenever he wanted them. There was a maid, if she could ever have been described as such, that he had enjoyed only a few nights before. Being officially given a whore in a year's time hardly seemed thrilling. There were plenty already working in the castle in other guises. The other gifts also seemed pointless. He could buy a bed slave now if he wanted one. And he doubted any pleasure would be denied him, should he ask.

For his fifteenth year, though, Uther had decided to share other pleasures with his son. He'd let a convicted sorcerer languish in the cells for over a month, so that they could be burned in celebration of his boy's birthday.

To Uther, it seemed fitting. Sorcery had robbed him of his beloved wife at the birth of his son, it was poetic that one would die on a celebration of that son's birth. It wasn't the first time he'd done it either, just the first time that he made sure that Prince Arthur was actually aware it was happening.

Arthur wasn't sure about sorcerers. He'd been raised to believe that they were evil, but had never seen any particular evidence either way. His mother had died, and he regretted that fact every day, but he'd seen many women die from childbirth in his short life and his practical mind told him that nature rather than sorcery was probably the cause. His less practical side told him that it was probably his fault for existing, that he'd done something wrong when he was born.

The sorcerer was tall and thin, with long grey straggly hair. Too thin, Arthur supposed they hadn't wasted much food on him in the dungeons when he was due to die anyway. He tore off a hunk of bread from the platter that had been brought out on the balcony, and chewed on it as he watched the condemned man being tied to a stake on top of a pyre. He hoped it would be over with soon, the screams that he'd heard from his rooms on previous burnings weren't pleasant. As entertaining birthday celebrations went, it wasn't that great. The jugglers the previous year had been much better.

Uther was giving a speech. Arthur only half-listened, hearing him droning on about sorcery and how evil it was, and how great Camelot was now that it was free of the evils of sorcery.   Down in the courtyard, the sorcerer was staring up at them with undisguised hatred. It chilled Arthur a little to see it, so much hate all gathered up and aimed at the pair of them.

The man didn't stop staring up at them even when someone stepped forward and lit the pyre. He didn't scream, or beg for mercy. Nothing, he just stared as the flames licked closer.

"He's cast a spell on himself," Uther pointed out. "They do this, then they can't feel the flames. But you'll see, as the body starts to die the spell is lost and then they feel it. When the wood is packed like this, it can take a while. Just watch and learn."

"Wouldn't it be easier just to execute him cleanly?" Arthur wondered. "Just cut his head off. It's cruel to make people suffer."

Nobody else got away with questioning the king's decisions. Sometimes even Arthur sailed very close to the wind and incurred his father's wrath. It was nothing compared to the anger Uther would display towards anyone else, but it was still best avoided.

"Sorcerers cause suffering," Uther told him.   "They deserve to suffer in return."

Arthur couldn't see it. He was a knight in training, all he understood was the honour in a swift, clean kill. There was no honour in burning someone slowly, no matter what they had done. His father was wrong. But Uther would never see that. When Arthur was king, he thought he might change things like this. He stared down at the condemned man, wishing it would be over soon.

Uther was looking away, talking to his servant, asking for more wine. He didn't even bother to watch.

Arthur watched. He saw the flames lick at the man's feet. He saw the chains suddenly fall away. He saw the man's eyes glow gold, and his hands come up to point at the king. There was something coming at them, heading straight for his father so he pushed Uther out of the way. He saved the king. He couldn't save himself.

The spell, when it hit, felt like nothing at first. It lifted him and for a moment he was suspended a few inches off the ground. And then it stopped and he was sprawling on the floor. That was when it started to hurt.

"Arthur!"

He was aware of his father leaning over him, Leon by his side, both of their faces a mask of concern. Someone was shouting for Gaius and he could hear footsteps running away. Arthur curled up against the growing pain in his stomach that was radiating out to his arms and legs, giving a little whimper that he couldn't help.

"His legs..." he heard Leon exclaim.

His legs hurt, it felt as if someone was twisting them and pulling on them until they were out of shape. He tried to put weight on one, to lift himself up, but there didn't seem to be any strength in them any more and he would have toppled over if Leon hadn't caught him.

"Arthur, don't try to get up. Gaius will be here soon."

"What's happening? Gods, it hurts!" Arthur stifled a cry of pain as there was another sharp twist in his legs.

"You were hit by a spell."

"Make it stop! Get the sorcerer to make it stop!" Arthur scrabbled at Leon's shoulders, trying to make him do something, anything. But Leon was just looking down at Arthur's body, at the suddenly weakened and misshapen legs. Then he looked back up at Arthur's face, and couldn't quite control his reaction. It was momentary, but there was a flinch and Arthur saw it.

Arthur could see his long, twisted legs, too long, too bent out of shape. What he couldn't see was his face, but that was starting to hurt as well. He reached up and ran his hand over his head, trying not to panic. His face felt lumpy, his arms were starting to ache, and a moment later he could see an overly large, gnarled hand in front of him holding what looked very much like a clump of Arthur's distinctive blond hair.

"What's happening to me?" he gasped. His father was standing over him. Uther lacked Leon's discretion, and was staring with undisguised revulsion. "Father, what's happening?"

"The sorcerer hit you with a spell, then vanished." He looked away far too quickly, speaking to one of his aides. "Where is Gaius? Tell him to hurry!"

Arthur struggled to get up again, helped by Leon.   This time it was Uther who stopped him.  

"Stay where you are. We can't have people seeing you weakened like this. Gaius will know how to help you, but it's best if you stay down until he does. Some people might... they might not understand. Just stay there. Ah, Gaius!"

The elderly physician tottered into view. Gaius was deceptive in his appearance, Arthur knew. He only gave the appearance of being a little doddery with age. The man was as sharp as anything, and could move at quite a pace when it suited him. Arthur was gratified to see that the situation apparently warranted Gaius' fastest speed, and as he sank under another wave of pain Gaius actually broke into a run.

"Help me!" he gasped, grabbing Gaius' arm as soon as the man was beside him. Gaius had looked after him since he was a small child, all manner of cuts and scrapes and bruises and even a broken arm had all been ably made better. He would fix this too.   He had to.

It wasn't that Arthur was afraid to die. He was a knight, or near enough, and they were all trained from the very first to accept that they were likely to be cut down one day. But in battle, out on the field. Not lying on the cold stone floor of his father's castle, his body twisting and mutating out of shape.

He didn't think he'd ever seen Gaius look so grim. Leon was crouching beside the physician, relating what had happened. The king was just standing there, staring down at Arthur in undisguised horror.

"There must be some way to reverse the spell," Uther was saying. "I don't care what you do, Gaius, he must be restored."

Restored... Arthur knew that meant whatever changes he was aware of in his body were probably only the tip of the iceberg. Restored made him sound no longer human.

"It's some kind of transformation spell," Gaius told them. "It's not something I've ever seen before."

A lot of people had come up there and gathered round. Perhaps his father had been right to try to keep him hidden. Nobles and servants alike were all staring at Arthur as if he were some kind of freak. He tried to get up again, but failed. It was as if he had no strength at all in his limbs any more.

"I'm not a sideshow!" he snapped.

There was a collective gasp. Even Leon looked horrified. Uther took a step back, then suddenly swept around, addressing the gathering crowd.

"Give my son some air. His throat is dry, someone bring water. Gaius, Leon, Kay, stay here. The rest of you leave us. Someone clear the courtyard!"

There was a pause as people hesitated, still staring, and Uther snarled: "Now!"

The balcony area emptied remarkably quickly after that.

"What's happening to me?" Arthur asked Gaius. The older man looked at him with concern and didn't answer.

"Leon? What's happening?"

The pain was lessening, but Arthur supposed that might not be a good sign. Whatever was happening had probably finished its course. Leon didn't answer him either. His father was standing back, watching him.

"Well? Can you cure him?" Uther snapped at Gaius.

"It's sorcery, Sire."

"I know it's sorcery, you fool! That creature broke free from his bonds and cast a spell! Everyone saw what it was. I don't want a statement of the obvious, I want my son cured!"

Most people on being faced with Uther in a rage would be instantly cowed, but Gaius was obviously used to it and merely bowed his head a little and continued. Arthur had always rather admired him for that.

"Sorcery isn't likely to be cured by anything other than more magic. Geoffrey and I will research all we can, but other than that there's very little I can do other than try to make the prince comfortable."

"Comfortable?" Uther had that look on his face which normally preceded an explosion. "Comfortable?!   Does my son look comfortable! Does he look, in fact, like anything remotely human?"

Arthur flinched at that, but only Gaius seemed to notice. The physician squeezed his hand sympathetically, but Uther was in full rant mode and there was nothing that was going to stop him.

"How am I supposed to present him to other courts, looking like that? Another year or two and I'd be looking to secure a good marriage for him, a liaison to unite our kingdom with another. What king would ever agree to marry his daughter off to him while he looks like that? Gods, how is he supposed to rule after me, like _that?_ "

"Father!" Arthur protested, but Uther just glared at him.

"Stop that awful noise! You sound like one of the beasts of the forest. Speak properly or don't speak at all!"

"I am speaking..." Arthur began, but his father almost screamed at him to be silent. He obeyed.

"Sire, this isn't Prince Arthur's fault," Gaius protested. "From what I hear, if the boy hadn't pushed you aside..."

Uther rubbed his hand over his eyes wearily, making a visible effort to calm himself. Gaius was possibly the only member of court who could or would dare talk him down from a rage. "I am aware of what happened.   Arthur was of course very brave. He has always been very brave. And he needs to be brave now." Uther took a step forward, then crouched down beside his son. "Arthur, can you still understand me?" Arthur nodded, knowing better now than to attempt to speak. "I'm sorry this has happened to you, and we'll find a cure even if it means bringing a sorcerer into Camelot. But the people can't see you while you're like this, so you're going to have to stay out of sight. You'll have the rooms in the north tower, they're spacious but easy to keep secure from unwanted intruders. Sir Kay and Sir Leon will arrange discreet guards, and Gaius will attend you."

The only way into the rooms of the north tower was via a steep spiral staircase. Arthur wasn't sure how he would manage to get up there, and even if he did there was certainly no way that he could ever get down. His father couldn't have made him more of a prisoner if he'd locked him in the dungeons.

"I can't walk," he pointed out. "How will I get out?"

"Please don't make that sound, Arthur. It vexes me to hear it." Uther stood up and stepped back. "Leon, Kay, help him up to the tower then organise a guard. No-one is to disturb the prince whilst he is..." he looked at his son, and Arthur thought he could see a little revulsion in his eyes. Perhaps it was just the light. He hoped it was just the light. "...As he is. Gaius, a word."

Uther was already walking away. Gaius patted Arthur's hand reassuringly, but then got up and hurried after the king. Arthur was left alone with the two knights.

"Right, we'd better get this thing out of sight. Take his legs." Kay stooped and hooked his hands under Arthur's armpits.

Leon looked wary. "How do we know it's not hurting him? When he could still talk he said the change was causing him pain. We might make it worse if we lift him."

"He can't talk now," Kay pointed out. "So we don't know. And more to the point, if he doesn't like it he can't exactly complain to the king about it, can he? For all we know his brain is as melted as his body. Certainly sounds like it. So let's get him up to the tower before the king comes back and throws us in the stocks for slacking."

Leon was a very young knight. Arthur wasn't sure, but he didn't think Leon could possibly be more than ten years older than himself at the very most, probably a lot less. Kay was senior in every way and would have to be obeyed. Still, Leon looked to Arthur as they started to lift him. "Does it still hurt? Just nod if it does."

Arthur shook his head, and Leon looked relieved.

"You can still understand what we say?"

Arthur nodded.

"But you can't talk."

"I can talk!" Arthur told him. "You just don't seem capable of understanding me!"

"He sounds like a frog croaking," Kay pointed out. Leon glared at him, but that didn't stop the older knight. "Looks like a frog too, with those legs."

"Arthur can hear you," Leon pointed out.

"So? You heard what the old man said, it's a spell and he can't do anything about it. What's his highness going to do, hop to his father and tell him I've been mean? You're good at that, aren't you your highness? The little shit went running to the king a few months back because I beat him in training. As if I'd lose to some snotty-nosed kid."

"You cheated," Arthur protested, but the look of triumph Kay gave him told him all he needed to know about how that had come out.

"See? Nobody can understand a word he's saying. Even if we accidently dropped him, he wouldn't be able to do a thing about it. Just stand there and shake his head at the king. Pick up your end of it and let's go."

Leon regarded Kay worriedly, then shook his head. "No, I'll take that side, you take his legs. He's heavy, I don't want you putting your back out."

Kay laughed at that but moved over anyway. "You just don't want me dropping your precious prince down the stairs on his head! He'll never be king now, not like this."

"Gaius will find a way."

Kay snorted disparagingly. He obviously didn't agree. He picked up Arthur's misshapen legs, none too carefully. "Up you go, Froggy."

"Kay!" Leon shot the other knight a warning look, but Kay just shrugged.

Arthur had always liked Leon, but never as much as in those few moments. He felt as if the young knight might be his only friend. Certainly at that moment he was. It was humiliating being lifted up by the pair of them, but better than trying to walk. He had no strength in those strange, misshapen legs at all. It was terrifying. The fear was there that perhaps he would never be able to walk again.

It seemed a long way to the tower, the two knights stopping several times to rest. Arthur noticed that Kay dumped him unceremoniously on the floor every time and he was constantly grateful for Leon's consideration.

The stairs were worse, wide at the bottom then narrowing to a spiral at the top. There was no way he could ever get down without help, especially whilst his limbs wouldn't even obey him.

Then they reached the rooms that Arthur had a horrible feeling would be his home for the foreseeable future. They had been used mostly as guest chambers for visiting royalty in the past and Arthur had rarely been near them. There was a large main room with a smaller bedchamber leading off from it. Both rooms had a good view of the courtyard below, but there was only that single staircase leading up. It would be easy enough to keep him hidden away up there. Arthur hoped, rather than believed, that wouldn’t be his father’s intention.

Kay dropped him as soon as they got through the main door, told Leon to take the first watch and that Kay would go and organise the rest of the guard. Arthur hoped Kay wasn't going to include himself in that guard very often. Or that he hadn't infuriated any of the other knights as much as Kay. He hadn't ever really thought about it. Being the crown prince meant that he could do whatever he wanted, and although he was never intentionally unkind he knew he was probably guilty of being thoughtless on occasion.

"Can you not stand at all, Arthur?" Leon asked. He was stuck, Arthur supposed, with his burden just inside the door and strong as Leon was Arthur knew he was still going to be dragged unceremoniously across the floor.

Arthur shook his head. It was all the communication left to him. He didn't bother trying to speak.

"What if you try leaning on me?"

Arthur tried. Between them they managed to get Arthur through the main room and into the bedchamber, mostly by Leon dragging him but Arthur thought there might have been a small amount of staggering involved on his part too. His legs were bent awkwardly and it really was quite difficult to get them to do anything. Sitting on the bed was slightly better, at least he wasn't sprawling on the floor any more. It took a little manoeuvring but they managed to get him into a sitting position, leaning against the headboard. They struggled to stretch out his legs and then Leon mercifully covered them with a sheet.  

That was the point at which Leon appeared to no longer know what he was supposed to do, and just hovered there, looking uncomfortable.

"Gaius should be here soon," he ventured.  

"Gaius has already said he can't do anything," Arthur told him. He could tell by the look on Leon's face that the knight still couldn't understand a word he said.

"I'll... go and see what's keeping him. I won't be long."

And with that Leon was gone, and Arthur was left alone. He sat, because he couldn't really do anything else, looking at his mutated limbs. His hands weren't as bad as his legs, but they were large and misshapen.   It was going to be difficult to hold a quill, further limiting his means of communication.

It was quiet up in the tower, and it seemed a very long time before Gaius and Leon reappeared. That, Arthur soon found, was a sign of how his life would be.

 

 

Arthur Pendragon had never been quiet. He'd screamed and bawled within moments of entering the world, and continued to do so whenever he wanted anything.

Once he'd learned to talk, his favourite phrase was "I want..." And, being the heir to the throne, not to mention somewhat spoilt, whatever he wanted he invariably got. Looking very much like his beloved and much-missed mother didn't hurt either.

Arthur didn't look very much like Ygraine now.

They banned mirrors from his rooms, making excuses about them being too heavy to carry up the stairs. He could still see himself though, in bowls of water left out for him to wash in, in the bath that he was occasionally asked to take despite all the mess his clumsiness made. Kay had not been that far off the mark with his description. Arthur's limbs had grown unnaturally long whilst the rest of his body had hunched over, giving a squat, unattractive look to him. Arthur knew Kay would have gone back to the knights, to the servants, to anyone Arthur had ever offended and let them know of his amusing new nickname. At least he wasn't green.

Frogs, he'd thought, were supposed to get on well in water. Arthur was worse in it than on dry land, there was nothing to grip in the bath and he'd invariably find himself slipping under, having to be pulled up by panicking servants, terrified of what would happen if the prince drowned under their care.

Arthur wondered if Uther might actually reward them.

He rarely saw his father. At first Uther visited every day. Then he started making excuses, and it slipped rapidly to once a week, once a month...

Three years passed, with no sign of a cure.

By the time Arthur turned eighteen, he hadn't seen his father up close in nearly half a year, although he'd seen him many times riding through the courtyard below his window. Apparently kings were busy men. Too busy to visit their deformed and repulsive sons, anyway, or that was certainly how it appeared.

Arthur hated his life. He hated that he couldn't train with the knights, he wasn't allowed to even try to ride a horse, and he couldn't do any of the things that a young man his age would take for granted. Everything that he had ever enjoyed doing had been stolen from him. Sometimes he would sit in his window and just watch the servants going to and fro, calling to each other, laughing and waving. He envied every last one of them.

Leon visited every day, without fail, with a report on whatever the knights had been up to in training that day. He often didn't stay long, because Leon had never been a great conversationalist and now that it was totally one-sided he obviously found it difficult. At least he bothered. But hearing about everything he was missing just made the ache in Arthur’s heart grow stronger.

Gaius was the only other one who came in daily, and he stayed. He brought books. Arthur had never been a great reader, but there was nothing else to do and eventually he found himself spending most days sitting in a chair by the window, working through everything Gaius brought him. Sometimes, rarely, there were stories in those books. He liked those, kept them behind to read again. Mostly they were full of dreary words about records and things that couldn't possibly be of any interest to anyone. But the stories... he liked the stories.

Gaius had explained to him in the early days that he would need to learn to use his limbs all over again, to build up the strength in his muscles and then he'd be able to walk. And he was right, Arthur could walk. He didn't walk tall and upright like Leon. He half-shuffled, half-hobbled. Gaius could move faster than he could. But at least it was movement.

His confidence boosted after weeks of being able to move around, Arthur had decided to attempt the staircase. Surprisingly he'd managed it with only a few slips, clinging desperately to the rail and moving horribly slowly. When he reached level ground, he gave a little laugh of relief, which caused the maid who was washing the floors turn to look. And scream.

She was brand new, she was very young, and she hadn't been told about Arthur. Later he would realise that the servants who attended him were briefed on what to expect and were usually older so that they would be less likely to take fright. Later still he would realise that there were many servants in the castle who thought that he was ill, or that he had died, and some who didn't even know that the king had a son at all.

He dreamt about the girl's face that night, and many nights after. The way it had changed when she saw him, the way she'd cried with fear. He never tried to go down the stairs again. His father was right to keep him away from people.

And so he lived his life mostly sitting at his window, high up in the tower where nobody could easily see him, watching the world go by.

Gaius really did try to help him. As Arthur had suspected, his new hands were too clumsy to hold something as elegant as a quill without constantly breaking it and needing a new one, so Gaius brought charcoal and chalks. As Arthur gained better control of his hands, he found it easiest to write on the floor. It was painfully slow and inelegant, but it was a way of communicating with Gaius and Leon.

The servants, almost without exception, couldn't read so it was pointless him trying to write down that he didn't like a particular food now because it was so difficult to eat. They all kept their heads down when they were around him anyway, and were out of his rooms as fast as they could. They also never seemed willing to go in there alone.

Even the seemingly sensible servants thought he was a monster.

It would stop eventually. If there was no cure (and by that time Arthur held out little hope that there ever would be) then when Uther died Arthur's problems would really begin. Arthur would be the heir, but there was no way that he would be allowed to inherit the throne looking like he did. He knew that he'd be conveniently done away with when the time drew near, and the throne would go to some distant relative who looked the part instead. But at least that would be an end to his pathetic, tedious existence.

Sometimes he wished he'd let the sorcerer hit his father instead. Sometimes, times when Uther hadn't visited for a long, long time and Arthur could see him laughing in the courtyard with Morgana... Princess Morgana, as she was now known. She was heir in all but name.

He didn't blame Morgana. She at least bothered with him, visiting, sometimes with her pretty new maidservant who was friendly and lively and kind, and didn't look at Arthur as if he was something that the knights should be hunting down and killing. He watched the maidservant, Gwen, out in the courtyard sometimes. She was very friendly with one of the new knights. Sometimes he found that hard to watch.

It wasn’t that Arthur had ever thought for one moment that Gwen would be that friendly with him. He could see why whenever he looked down at himself and then looked at her beautiful, smiling face. It was the cold, hard fact that nobody would ever look at him that way. He'd gone from being the potentially most desired young man in the five kingdoms to the most reviled.  

In the evenings, he'd watch couples sneaking away together across the courtyard, huddled close together, or single figures off for a secret tryst. He would never experience any of that. Nobody would ever love him.

The world was passing him by.

 

 

Uther Pendragon had not, whatever Arthur thought, abandoned his son.

It was true that he found Arthur's deformed appearance difficult to look upon. There had been no father prouder of their offspring than Uther was of Arthur as the boy was growing up. He had watched his prowess as a swordsman with no small amount of pleasure. And when Arthur had taken part in his first tournament and made it through several rounds whilst still in his early teens Uther couldn't have been prouder if Arthur had actually won the entire thing.

Arthur would be a great king and a credit to the Pendragon name. Or he would have been, if it wasn't for the spell.

Uther had Geoffrey of Monmouth working on locating a cure day and night. Somewhere in the depths of their vast archives there had to be something, some hint as to how the spell could be broken. But Geoffrey found nothing.

Gaius, usually so good at mysteriously knowing what to do whenever magic was involved, was completely stumped too. Uther had taken him aside as soon as the...accident... had happened. He'd told the physician that he really didn't care what Gaius did, or what means he used to do it. Uther knew Gaius still had the ability to contact magic users when the need arose, and always turned a blind eye to it. Gaius was loyal, and even Uther wasn't so blinkered where magic was concerned that he couldn't see the value of having someone knowledgeable in the subject around. All he wanted now was to have Arthur restored to his natural form.   But that was beyond Gaius's skills, and Arthur remained deformed. Gaius, Uther knew, was fond of Arthur and would do anything he could to help him.

There was a bounty on the sorcerer's head, of course. Uther wanted him alive so that he could reverse the spell. Actually, Uther would have liked to have the man cut up into small pieces for what he'd done, then fed to Uther's dogs. But Gaius had pointed out that this wouldn't help them restore the young prince. Anyway, they hadn't been able to find the man despite a constant search.

Every day, without fail, Gaius gave Uther an update on Arthur's progress, or lack of it. It didn't take long.

But still, despite Uther's best efforts, the sorcerer was nowhere to be found, and Arthur was still deformed. In Albion, no man would reign for long if he were not strong enough to fight. Uther had taken his own kingdom through battle, and he knew there was scant chance of Arthur retaining it for long if the spell couldn't be lifted. He was an adult now, and Uther wasn't getting any younger. There would need to be another heir. Morgana was strong and decisive enough, despite being a woman. Beautiful, too. Men would fight for her. He didn't want to deprive Arthur of his birthright but increasingly there was little choice. At least Morgana would leave him alive.

He wondered if Arthur would think that a kindness.

There were petitions to hear. It was a shame, as he would obviously have visited his son if that wasn't the case. Perhaps tomorrow.

 

 

Two more years passed. Gaius was a good physician, but Arthur had long since given up any hope of being cured by him.

He watched as Gaius carefully measured out a fresh draught of whatever potion he'd come up with this time.   Arthur dutifully drank them because really he'd do anything to be restored, but when no change was forthcoming he was hardly surprised.

"This one may taste a little sharp," Gaius warned. That was normally Gaius’s way of letting him know that whatever potion it was this time would taste unbearably foul. Arthur took the goblet from him anyway and drank it down.

"Gods, that’s disgusting!" Arthur exclaimed.

Gaius looked a little guilty. Despite the language barrier, there could be no mistaking what Arthur had said, or at least the gist of it. "Sorry. I have to try everything. Do you feel any different?"

Arthur shook his head. Really, he just felt a little sick but that was fairly common after one of those concoctions. Gaius patted him sympathetically on the shoulder.

"Well, I'll keep looking. We'll find something, Arthur. This won't be forever."

Arthur didn't believe him on either count.

"I had a letter today from an old friend," Gaius continued. He did that, told Arthur about his day. At first Arthur really hadn't cared, but as time had moved on, and Arthur's own life had stood still, he'd started to listen and then eventually found himself looking forward to Gaius' visits and tales. The old physician's life was so much more interesting than his own. Everyone else’s life was more interesting than his own. "She sheltered me, many years ago."

Arthur grabbed the charcoal that they used to communicate and scrawled across the floor. "Girlfriend?"

"Goodness no. She's a dear, dear friend.   And don't you go saying anything like that when her son arrives. He's coming as my ward, an apprentice. He’s just turned eighteen, only a few years younger than you. I’ll bring him with me sometimes, you may enjoy the more youthful company. And who knows, perhaps he'll find something to help you."

Arthur felt a wild surge of jealousy. The physician was far more of a father to him than Uther would ever be now, and he hated the thought of some other young man coming in and taking up Gaius' time. Arthur disliked him on principle.

It was like Leon, always talking about the new knights now. They'd become Leon's friends. Arthur had heard about Percival at first, and then there had gradually been more and more about Lancelot and Gwaine as well. Gwaine was quite a character and Leon seemed to think he was a little unruly. To Arthur he sounded as if he was a lot of fun.  

A few months back, Sir Kay had fallen off his horse and broken his leg. Apparently Kay thought it was Gwaine's fault. Whether it was or not, it made Arthur like the sound of Gwaine even more after that. Though he supposed the knight would just be repelled like everyone else if they ever met.

But Arthur couldn't tell Gaius that. He just sat and listened as the physician continued talking about some village that wasn't even in their kingdom, and how he'd hidden there, been sheltered by Hunith, the boy's mother. He told Arthur tales about the boy as a small child, and how much he was looking forward to seeing him again.

Arthur hadn't even met the boy but he was quite determined not to like him.

 

 

A few weeks later Gaius carried out his threat and brought his new apprentice up to Arthur’s tower with him. Merlin, his name was. Like the bird. Arthur wondered how long it would take him to fly away. They always did, the younger ones. They would come in and stare at him, barely able to do their jobs either out of fear or curiosity or both. Eventually they always found it too difficult to deal with what had been done to him, and would leave.   In this case it wouldn't be such a bad thing, because Merlin was going to be stealing Gaius's attention from Arthur, and that couldn't be a good thing.

Arthur had seen Merlin already. The boy had been running across the courtyard, tripped over his own feet and dropped half the things he'd been carrying. Then he'd seen him following Gaius around, heard the physician's exasperated voice floating up to Arthur's window. Merlin was clumsy and careless it seemed. It didn't bode well for the promised meeting with Arthur. Arthur, understandably, hated meeting new people. The more thoughtless they were, the more he hated it. This Merlin would probably be the worst of them all.

Merlin brought Arthur's dinner. It was a job that Gaius hoped could be entrusted to him in the future.

Arthur watched the servant boy place his dinner on the table, saw the way his dinner was tipped precariously just before being set down. It was a wonder it hadn't ended up in Arthur's lap. The boy was all gangly arms and legs, a shock of dark hair and as for those ears...

Arthur would swap bodies with him in an instant, given the chance.

He looked down at the dinner that the boy had brought, and groaned.

"I hate peas. Why does everyone always bring peas?" Arthur complained.   "If the cook had hands like these, she'd hate them too. They're so difficult to eat."

Gaius was ignoring him. He only really paid attention now when Arthur wrote something down. It hurt, but Arthur was used to it. He'd gone through many years where nobody replied to anything he said because nobody understood him.

Merlin, though, was peering at him curiously. Arthur was used to that too. Whenever a new servant came in, which wasn't very often, they always either avoided looking at him or just plain stared at Arthur. After all, it wasn't often you saw a monster sitting at a dining table trying to negotiate the niceties of table manners. And he barely looked human, so they probably thought it was okay to stare. He wasn't at all surprised to find that Merlin was one of the ones that liked to stare.

"Fascinating, aren't I?"

The boy ducked his head, obviously embarrassed. That was a usual reaction too when they first heard whatever sound it was that they thought he was making instead of speaking. The sounds they couldn't ever understand. Usually the noises just frightened them off. He wished Gaius had come by himself like he normally did. Gaius was one of the few people who still treated him as if he were a human being. He had vanished for most of the day when this Merlin person first arrived, and there had been noticeable absences since. It was someone else to care about, someone else taking up his time. Arthur had never wanted to do anything but hate the boy.

Arthur pushed at the food on his plate, trying to gather it into a solid enough lump that he could spoon it up into his mouth without making too much mess. When he looked up, the boy was staring at him again.

"I suppose I'm the ugliest thing you've ever seen!" Arthur snapped. Some of them had said that. Most of them waited until they were just outside the door and thought that he couldn't hear. Once, one had said it right there in the room, to his face.

"I could help you, if you liked," Merlin offered. He gestured to the plate. "I could feed you."

They'd tried that once. One of the serving girls had done it on his father's instructions. It hadn't gone well, and it had simply increased his humiliation because of course he could feed himself. It was just that the process looked awkward and ungainly because of his lack of dexterity. It hadn't helped that the girl was obviously absolutely terrified of him, and been shaking with fright the entire time. Quite possibly more food than usual had been dropped.

He shook his head. They understood that, at least. Yes, and no. He'd give almost anything to be able to tell someone more than just yes or no without having to laboriously write it out in his huge, ungainly scrawl.

"Just say if you change your mind." The boy smiled at him, and Arthur glared back. He had to put up with a lot, and now he was supposed to suffer some idiotic serving boy making fun of him.

"Merlin!" Gaius at least had picked up on the cruelty of the remark. "I'm sorry, Sire, he's only just arrived at Camelot, he's the son of an old friend that I told you about. And I thought she would have raised him better!" he added, giving Merlin a pointed look.

"I was only trying to help! I thought..."

"Go and wait outside."

The boy got as far as the door, then hovered there, watching the pair of them. Arthur found it quite intrusive.

"He's still there," he pointed out to Gaius. Gaius, of course, couldn't understand him.

"I'm not doing any harm," the boy muttered irritably. "If I had big clumsy hands like that, I'd want someone to help me."

"Merlin, outside means the other side of the door. Preferably at the foot of the stairs."

"You'd think with those big clumsy ears you'd be able to hear what Gaius said the first time," Arthur added.

Merlin flinched in a definite reaction, one hand instinctively going up to touch his ear. "Like you can talk about personal appearance," he told Arthur, and headed through the door.

Arthur stared at the closing door in shock for a moment, and then he was on his feet.

"Wait! Come back!" He looked at Gaius, who was regarding him in alarm. "Get him back!"

Gaius of course didn't understand him. Nobody ever understood him. Except maybe that boy had, and Arthur wanted him back so that he could find out for sure.

"Arthur, calm down, I won't bring him with me again. I'm sorry." All Gaius would have heard, Arthur realised, was the boy apparently insulting him. And whatever noise it was that people heard when Arthur tried to speak. Probably a lot of it, loud and agitated. Of course he would think Arthur was upset.

Arthur headed for the door. His slow, lumbering feet on the awkwardly bent legs made it difficult to walk quickly. Gaius looked even more alarmed as it became obvious where Arthur was going.

"Sire, I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it. Please calm down, you know your father doesn't like you to walk the palace."

Arthur didn't give a damn what his father liked. Uther hadn't been up to see him in months, it was as if he'd forgotten his son existed. Probably, as far as Uther was concerned, Arthur didn't exist. He wondered sometimes if his father would have preferred it if the warlock had just killed him. At least then Arthur wouldn't be living to bring shame on him.

Unfortunately Gaius didn't see it like that. He did the only thing he could under the circumstances as he wasn't strong enough to physically stop Arthur. Moving surprisingly quickly for his age, he reached the door before Arthur did, hurried through and locked it behind him.

"Gaius, I just want to talk to him! Let him back in!"

It was pointless. All Gaius would have heard were incomprehensible noises that he probably interpreted as distress.

Giving up, Arthur went over to the pile of charcoal and started to laboriously write out a message to Gaius. He hoped the physician would return soon.

 

 

Merlin had spent most of the afternoon out wandering through the woods which surrounded Camelot. He thought that perhaps if he picked enough herbs, and stayed away as long as possible, Gaius would have forgotten that he was cross with Merlin and all would be fine.

Gaius hadn't actually become angry with him yet. Exasperated, certainly, on many occasions, but Merlin had yet to feel any anger. He liked the old man, though he couldn't actually recall him from his childhood, and was enjoying his stay so far in Camelot. It was a lot more interesting than the little village of Ealdor and he had no wish to leave. So many different people from all over the kingdom and beyond. There was the king, fierce and terrifying, and the beautiful, regal princess and her sweet maidservant who was rapidly becoming Merlin's best friend. There was Gaius himself, who knew Merlin's secret and was actually helping him to improve his magical ability. There were the knights, brave and magnificent in their armour. They were a mix, some of them kind and friendly, joking with the new servant boy. Others seemed to regard him with suspicion, particularly once they'd learned he would be accompanying Gaius to the prince's chambers. One or two were just plain nasty, but he didn't take that personally as they were like that to everyone. And then there was the prince himself.

People had said that he looked like a monster, deformed and hideous. Merlin could see that Arthur was clearly deformed but hardly hideous. He'd seen far worse over the years, children born with half-formed limbs that were smothered on sight, others that weren't but grew up perhaps wishing that they had been. Arthur was hunched over and awkward in a body that he hadn't grown up with, and his face drooped on one side as if he'd had the brain illness that again Merlin had seen before, afflicting usually older members of the village. But Merlin also had magic, so he could see through the outward appearance as well. It was just an enchantment, after all, an illusion of sorts. It was a strong one though, having physically changed the prince, and Merlin couldn't see any easy way to break it. That was going to take longer. But he could see the prince as he really was, under the shadow of the spell. Golden and beautiful, hidden away from the world. Merlin hadn't been able to help staring, knowing that he was probably the only person who had ever truly seen the adult prince. Arthur Pendragon was possibly the most handsome man Merlin had ever laid eyes on. And he would be a magnificent king, just as the dragon had foretold.

Those same people said that Arthur couldn't speak, that he croaked and hissed like some kind of bestial thing. Arthur, though, had spoken as clearly as anyone else as far as Merlin could tell, though he had realised that must be his magic translating the spell for him. Arthur was rude, too, which Merlin hadn't been expecting. He'd only offered to help, after all. Shut away like that, Merlin had expected him to be pleased to have new company. But perhaps his situation had embittered him. It would hardly be surprising if that were the case.  

The basket of herbs was filling up nicely. Gaius would be pleased. Perhaps he would forget about the angry prince. Certainly Merlin was never going to have to go back there because of his grave offence... his grave attempt to be helpful. Merlin grabbed at another handful of herbs. Or perhaps they were just flowers, he wasn't sure. They all looked very similar. He glanced up at the sun, which was low in the sky. It was probably time to start making his way back. Hopefully Gaius wouldn't be too angry. Merlin got up, but carried on looking for herbs as he made his way back, just to be on the safe side.  

Later, he thought, he might visit the dragon. It had been a fearsome discovery, deep under the walls of Camelot, chained for years, a living symbol of Uther's defeat of the dragonlords and all they represented. The dragon, Kilgharrah, had called to him, and then left him dazed and confused with prophecies and riddles and things that the dragon would not tell him. Merlin had little doubt that when he asked Kilgharrah about ways to break the enchantment, the dragon would be as elusive and infuriating as he had been over everything else so far.

Arthur was supposed to be his destiny, according to Kilgharrah. At least, that’s what Merlin thought he meant; it was difficult to tell because the wretched creature talked in riddles more often than not. Apparently the grumpy, virtually imprisoned prince whom nobody could understand was destined to be Camelot's greatest ruler, and Merlin was supposed to be there at his side. Because of that he had begged and pleaded with Gaius to let him come along and help with Arthur, and Gaius had agreed. The old physician had probably hoped that Merlin would instantly find some miraculous cure, but that hadn't been the case and he and Arthur really hadn't got off to the best start and it was doubtful that he would be allowed near the prince again.

Merlin wondered what his mother would say if he went back home to Ealdor instead. It would certainly be easier to hide his magic there. King Cenred, should he ever find out, would only recruit him as a warlock. He wouldn't burn Merlin at the stake.   The trouble was, grumpy prince and constant fear of discovery aside, Merlin really liked living at Camelot. And he had no wish to be used as anyone's weapon of war. He sighed, and continued to walk back in the direction of the castle.

Even if Gaius was in a forgiving mood, Merlin didn't think the grumpy prince would be. Given a chance he thought perhaps he could find a way to help Arthur, to break through the enchantment. But if Arthur wasn't even going to let him anywhere near then there was no chance of that happening. Possibly that was just as well, because Merlin had already encountered the king and very much doubted that Uther would take kindly to a sorcerer in the castle, given his vast hatred of them. Even if he cured Arthur, Merlin had a nasty feeling he would end up being executed, because Uther would know Merlin had to have performed magic to break the spell.

After only a few weeks in Camelot, Merlin had already seen a burning and two beheadings. He had a healthy respect for the king's temper, and an even more healthy inclination to keep as far from the man as possible. Gaius had told him about the great purge and all the atrocities that had occurred at that time. He'd also pointed out that Uther's tolerance for magic had slipped still further since Arthur's enchantment. Merlin generally gave the king a very wide berth.

So, it was with some dismay that he saw, as he entered the courtyard, Uther Pendragon standing there barking orders at one of the knights. Merlin ducked his head and slipped past, hoping that he wouldn't be noticed. Generally the servants were treated as if they weren't there, and Merlin liked that just fine. If Uther never, ever noticed he was there then that was fine too.

"Merlin!"

He froze. For a horrible, horrible moment he thought that the stern, commanding voice was that of the king himself. But how could the king possibly know his name?

"Merlin!"

It was coming from too far away to be the king. He looked up, up towards the tower. The prince was at his window, calling down to him.

"Come up here."

The king was right there behind him. Merlin wasn't going to argue, and the faster he got out of Uther's range the better. Whatever Arthur wanted from him, it had to be better than attracting even the slightest attention from the magic-hating king. He nodded to Arthur.

"I'll be right up."

"Gods, you can understand me," he thought he heard Arthur say, but as the prince was no longer shouting it was hard to tell.

"You, boy!"

That was the king. With a certain sense of dread, Merlin turned to face the man who had killed so many of his kind. Uther was an imposing figure, standing so close.

“Sire," Merlin bowed as low as he could, his heart in his mouth.

"You're Gaius's boy, aren't you?"

"Yes, Sire. I'm his ward. I've been gathering..."

Uther wasn't interested in anything other than the first word. He was, at least, not shouting as he had been with the knight. A moment later Merlin realised why. Uther didn't particularly want their conversation overheard. "You've helped him with my son?"

"Yes." There was no point in letting Uther know how badly that had gone.

"Good. Go up there right now and get him away from the window. Stop him making that noise. Tell him I don't want him seen or heard whilst Lord Bayard is here. And make sure he obeys. I'll hold you personally responsible if he doesn't."

Merlin really didn't want to know what that might involve. He nodded, bowed again, and then turned to run into the castle and up the stairs to the tower, putting as much distance between himself and Uther as possible.

Outside the door to the prince's chambers, Merlin paused, considering things. The guard at the foot of the stairs, employed to keep Arthur safe, had barely spared Merlin more than a glance. Perhaps he'd seen Merlin there earlier, and maybe he'd noticed him before that trailing around after Gaius. Either that, or security was very lax. Merlin didn't remember ever seeing the man before. After what Uther had just said, he wondered if the guard wasn't actually there to stop people going in.

Security on Arthur's door, on the other hand, was very tight. There was a key, locking it from the outside, and a bolt slammed across for good measure. Merlin stared at it. He hadn't noticed that before. Gaius had opened the door for him, and Merlin had been laden down with the prince's lunch. Now he carefully pulled the bolt across, then turned the key.

He thought the dungeons were all far beneath the castle, but apparently he was wrong. The cruellest one of all was right there. If Uther didn't like Arthur appearing at the window, perhaps he would block that up too. Merlin tried not to think about it. He pushed open the door, noticing that it was thicker and heavier than normal doors in the castle.

Arthur was standing there in the middle of the main room, staring at him.

"You came back."

Merlin carefully closed the door behind him, then put the basket of herbs down on the nearest table.

"Your father ordered me up here. I'm supposed to stop you going to the window and shouting at people. Thanks for that, by the way. He's going to hold me responsible for anything you do wrong."

"He's ashamed of me, that's nothing new. But you... Can you really understand what I'm saying, Merlin?"

Merlin could understand him perfectly. But Uther hadn't understood anything, had heard something quite different to Merlin. And Merlin had been warned that he wouldn't understand the prince. Nobody did. So there was only one possible explanation and that was his magic somehow providing a translation.

Arthur was still staring at him, his expression a mix of hope and fear. Merlin wondered how long it had been since Arthur had been able to talk to anyone. His hands were dark with charcoal, and there was something scrawled across the floor behind Arthur. Merlin couldn't see what it said.

Merlin had a choice. He could keep quiet and protect his secret, and at the same time watch the hope on Arthur's face fade away. He thought about the lock and the bolt on the door, and the risk that Arthur might even lose his small link to the world if Uther bricked up the window. He could feel his magic tingling expectantly. It liked Arthur. There was going to be no keeping it hidden from the prince, not for long.

"Every word."

Arthur gave a little gasp, and took a step forward.   "You really can. Nobody understands, not one word I say ever since this happened. They say I'm talking gibberish. Gaius and Leon come here every day, but even they don't try to listen any more."

"I'm different."

"Yes. Why? What's different about you? Why you out of everyone?" Arthur hadn't moved any closer.

"I... just..." Merlin couldn't think of anything. "I just understand what you're saying."

Apparently that was the wrong answer. Arthur looked away, his face crumpled in disappointment. "It's sorcery, isn't it? That's how you understand me. You're like the one who did this to me."

"No! I'm nothing like him! I'd never do something like this to anyone!" Merlin bit his lip. He should have kept quiet, pretended he couldn't understand Arthur. Too late now though. He thought Arthur would be glad to have someone to talk to. Perhaps he was wrong. "Not everyone who has magic is evil, Arthur.”

“Magic is banned for a reason. If my father knew…”

“Please don’t tell him! Magic can be used for good too. It’s supposed to be used for good."

Arthur looked conflicted, but Merlin supposed that after five years the chance to have someone that he could talk to would far outweigh any other concerns. "I hope you're right."

“I am! You won’t tell him? I need to stay here.”

Arthur stepped a little closer. "What about the spell? Do you know how to break it? Can you take it away? Undo the curse?"

"I don't know how to do that," Merlin admitted. Despite the way his magic was singing happily through his veins, liking Arthur far more than it should, that didn't mean it could break through what had been done. And perhaps it wasn't Arthur anyway. Perhaps it was just reacting to the proximity of the strong curse magic. He didn't want to give Arthur any false hope. "If it's a curse, that's hard to undo."

"A curse, a spell, what's the difference? I need to be free of this, Merlin. Look at me." He held up his hands. "I can't go out. People stare... you stared."

Merlin had, he knew. It wasn't intentional, he'd been fascinated by the magic. Starved of it since birth, having to keep it hidden away, it had been a revelation to see such a powerful piece of magic at work. And the fact that he could see through it, see the prince within as he really was... no, he hadn't been able to help staring. He hadn't thought of Arthur, just been dazzled by the magic. And then he'd seen Arthur, really seen him, and wanted to stare even more. He still did.

"I'm sorry. If it helps, it was the magic I was staring at, not you." It wasn't really even a lie, not really. Not considering what it was that Arthur thought he was looking at. "And," he took Arthur's hand in his, turned it over, examining it. "If you want me to try to help you then you'll probably have to suffer a lot more staring."

"But you think you can help?"

Merlin didn't miss the desperate edge to Arthur's voice. He had to be careful. He'd never tried to lift a curse, he'd never even seen one at work before. Arthur couldn't be allowed to have any high expectations that were going to be dashed if Merlin failed. "I'll try. A curse is different to a spell. You can't just undo it, there'll be conditions in place that have to happen in order to break it instead. We'll have to find what those are. But I'll keep trying, until we find a way to break it. I swear."

Arthur nodded eagerly. "I'll help. Whatever you need from me, I'll do it. I don't care if it's magic, I want this gone."

"Your father can't know," Merlin warned. "He'd have me executed. Gaius too, possibly, for taking me in."

Arthur laughed a little bitterly, Merlin thought. "What am I going to do? Talk to him? Even if he understood me, he never comes up here and even when he does, he doesn’t have the patience to wait while I write anything down. Look, he's even sent you to tell me to stay hidden because some important dignitary is arriving. He hates the sight of me. You'll see... well...if you're here long enough." Arthur suddenly looked uncertain. "You're staying in Camelot, aren't you? Permanently, I mean? And helping Gaius, so you'll come up here most days?"

"I can come up here every day," Merlin assured him. "There's too many steps, Gaius would rather not climb them so often. He's getting old."

"He's always been old!"

They both laughed at that, Merlin more out of relief than anything. Perhaps he could live here after all, work with this cursed prince, be his friend, maybe even save him. And perhaps King Uther would never be willing to allow magic back into the land, but his son could be different if he was shown another way. If he was shown that it could be used for good. Merlin thought he could show him that, given time.

There was the distinct sound of someone making their way up the stone staircase to Arthur's quarters. Arthur's smile didn't fade. "Here he comes now!"

They both paused, listened, then Merlin shook his head. "That's not Gaius." The footfall was too heavy, too steady, too assured.

"It might be Leon," Arthur told him, but he didn't sound certain. "But he's supposed to be out on patrol. What if it's my father, you said he sent you." He looked around. "Merlin! The floor!"

He could see it properly now, the message that Arthur had written for Gaius, a desperate, innocent plea that could cost Merlin his life.

Bring Merlin back he understands me.

Merlin scrambled over to the jug of water that one of the servants must have left out in case Arthur was thirsty. He couldn’t see anything that could be used as a rag, so grabbed his own neckerchief and used that. Merlin had never cleaned anything so fast. The door opened whilst he was still only half done.

"Arthur." Uther Pendragon strode into the room. Merlin supposed that if you were king then knocking was never necessary. "A word."

"I'll wager it's considerably more than one word," Arthur replied. Uther, of course, didn't understand him. As Merlin scrambled to his feet and executed a clumsy bow, he tried to hide a faint smile.

"Don't do that, Arthur. You know it pains me to hear you."

"He means my speech," Arthur pointed out to Merlin.

The young sorcerer's eyes widened as he realised there was a real risk that he was going to burst out laughing at some point if Arthur kept his running commentary up. Uther, of course, didn't have a clue. And Arthur, having finally found someone he could talk to, obviously had no intention of stopping any time soon.

Uther pursed his lips. Merlin could see his barely held anger in the white line his mouth had become. He was looking around, surveying the room. If what Arthur said were true, and Uther rarely visited, perhaps he was re-familiarising himself with it. The king's gaze fell on the charcoal scrawl that Merlin had been trying frantically to remove.

"What's this?"

The lettering now said 'Bring Merlin back he'.

Merlin looked at it. "I was trying to clean it. It was a request to Gaius. Prince Arthur wanted me to help Gaius treat him in future. I think he wanted someone closer to his own age up here?"

Uther looked across to Arthur, who was nodding agreement frantically.

"Indeed. It seems he likes you. Arthur is of age now, he should have a manservant. You might as well take up that position."

"Thank you, your majesty."

Generally speaking, being a manservant didn't sound much like fun to Merlin. He knew it was a position in the royal household, and normally probably very much sought-after. But the whole 'servant' part of it didn't appeal anywhere near as much as running free through the forests on the pretext of gathering herbs for Gaius. It smacked far too much of responsibility. Also, he'd noticed many of the servants looked quite harassed much of the time. Uther's own manservant in particular looked perpetually exhausted. Still, Arthur might be different. He hoped so.

"You are never to speak of Arthur's condition to anyone. If you are asked, then the prince is unwell, following a sorcerer's attack. We expect him to make a full recovery, given time."

Merlin glanced at Arthur. There was no quick response to Uther's statement. Arthur's expression was downcast, he turned and headed towards the window, though he stopped just far enough from it that he wouldn’t be visible to anyone outside.

"If I hear that you have been gossiping about him, or tormenting him in any way then I assure you that you will pay dearly."

"I would never do such a thing," Merlin assured him. He didn't need any threats over that.    

"See that you don't. I take it you've never performed the role of manservant before?"

"No, your majesty."

"No matter.   Have Gaius arrange for someone to train you." Uther looked down at the smudged lettering on the floor. "And clean that up."

"Yes, your majesty."  

"There are a number of additional duties that you'll be responsible for," Uther continued. "Arthur is not to leave these quarters whilst Lord Bayard and his daughter are here. Nor is he to go to the window and exhibit himself as he did earlier.” He looked pointedly at Arthur, who glared back and stayed firmly where he was. “You are to be watchful at all times. When Arthur becomes king, it will not reflect well on him if he is seen often in his... incapacitated state. You are responsible for ensuring this does not happen. Do you understand?"

"Yes, your majesty."

Merlin understood all too well. Uther was ashamed of Arthur.

"I'm standing right here," Arthur pointed out. "I can hear you." He might not have spoken at all for all the notice Uther took of him.

"Good. Excellent." Uther stood for a moment, looking around. He looked, Merlin noted, anywhere but at his son. "Keep Gaius updated on any progress."

And then he was gone. Arthur gave a grunt of disgust, and walked into his bedchamber.

"Your father's a scary man," Merlin said, following him in.

"He didn't even look at me," Arthur pointed out. "I think he'd rather that sorcerer had killed me than this."

Merlin had wondered the same thing, but he wasn't about to tell Arthur that. "You should worry. What about me? If someone decides to spread gossip about you, and blame me, I'm doomed!" He attempted a smile, though it was a very real possibility.

"You'd be better off than me," Arthur told him darkly. He flung himself back on the bed, turning away from Merlin. "You could just run away."

There wasn't a lot Merlin could say to that. He went back into the main room and knelt down. His neckerchief was already ruined, so he carried on cleaning the floor.

Somehow, he knew, Arthur was going to have a lot of dark moods.

 

 

Arthur's moods were the least of Merlin's problems.

Firstly, there were the other servants.

As Uther had expected, they asked questions.

"We know he's not ill, Merlin," Cook told him when he went to fetch Arthur's dinner. "His last servant told us all about it, about what he is. And everyone saw when it happened anyway."

Merlin picked up the tray, trying to resist the urge to snap at her. "He's ill," was all he said.

They resented him, as well. Regardless of what had happened to Arthur, manservant to the crown prince was an honoured position and Merlin found himself regarded with no small amount of jealousy by the other servants. Edward, Uther's manservant, was possibly the worst. He had an assistant, an odious little creature called George whom he was evidently training up with the intention that he work for Arthur. Merlin's arrival had put paid to that, then to add insult to injury it was George who was dispatched to provide training for Merlin. Nothing Merlin did was good enough as far as George was concerned, and he would report back to Edward each and every one of Merlin's many failings as a manservant. It would have been a long report, every day.

The thing was, Arthur didn't particularly need a manservant in the same way that Uther did. What Arthur needed was a companion, and that was a role only Merlin was able to fill. He reminded himself of that regularly, whenever Edward or George, or both, were bemoaning his lack of manservanting excellence.

Next, there was Uther. It wasn't that the king did anything in particular, just that he always seemed to be watching Merlin suspiciously. Arthur's previous manservant had apparently proved woefully indiscrete, and Uther didn't appear to have a lot of faith that Merlin wasn't cut from the same cloth. That, in itself, wasn't too bad. But combined with the envy of the other servants, it became worrying. All it needed was for one of them (and Merlin's money was on either Edward or George) to say the wrong thing to the king and Merlin would be straight down to the dungeons, or possibly an even worse fate.

Then there was Gaius. Gaius had, of course, got something to say about Merlin returning to Arthur's rooms after being expressly ordered to leave. The talk had involved a perpetually raised eyebrow and, on discovering that Merlin could understand Arthur, a long, long diatribe on the dangers of being found out as a sorcerer. On top of that, apparently the not so very carefully gathered herbs had all just been weeds and quite useless, so Merlin had wasted an afternoon when he could have been making himself useful. No, Gaius wasn't particularly happy, though he was glad of the sudden ease with which he could now communicate with Arthur, albeit via a translator. It also helped with the search for a cure, as Arthur was able to answer Gaius's questions faster and more easily. Merlin had to help with the search, but as that only involved either translating Arthur for Gaius or reading through endless forbidden magic books without any risk of being exposed as a sorcerer, it wasn't a chore he particularly minded.

Finally, there was Arthur himself, and the dark moods that Merlin had already anticipated.   Arthur was of course delighted to be able to talk to someone, but it didn't seem to stop him sinking into a slump from time to time. Merlin didn't particularly blame him for getting frustrated but he wished that Arthur wouldn't sometimes take it out on him.

Generally, though, despite all this, Merlin rather enjoyed his new job. Arthur, when he wasn't picking fault with everything Merlin did (which he seemed to do whether he was in a black mood or not, although most of the time it was more playful banter) was good company, and Merlin knew (although Arthur would never admit it) that having Merlin in his life had made a huge difference.

Arthur's confidence had increased since Merlin's arrival. Having someone there who understood what he was saying, even if nobody else could know that was the case, made quite a difference. Sometimes, when the castle was quiet, Leon would ensure the coast was clear, then Arthur would accompany Merlin and Gaius and help them go through the forbidden books in the library. Arthur had no idea what he was looking for and most of the books were written in an ancient language he didn't understand. But it got him out of his rooms and gave him a purpose. Best of all the exercise started to improve his posture and strengthen his legs. He was still hunched over when he walked, but Merlin noticed that after a few days he didn't have to slow down very much so that Arthur could keep pace with him. After a few weeks the delay was barely noticeable at all.

It was partly the strengthening of Arthur's muscles and improvement of his posture due to the increased exercise, but it was also something else. Every time Merlin took his arm to help him through some difficult feat, Merlin's magic took on a life of its own. He could feel it swirling happily around Arthur, bleeding out from Merlin and into the prince. It was brilliant and frightening at the same time, because if there was a sudden vast improvement and the king realised what was happening then it would be Merlin's head. Merlin wasn't sure if Arthur could feel it or not, and he didn't want to push his luck there by asking him.

Leon had no idea what the cause of the change was, but he was all for helping Arthur. He'd told Merlin that he missed having his friend out on patrol with him, that Arthur had shown greater promise than any of the other trainee knights and that there were few who were as good as he had been even now.

"Arthur misses that too," Merlin assured him.

"The king forbids him to go on patrol, but it would be good for Arthur to go further than the library. I'd like to see if he can ride."

"The king doesn't want Arthur seen." Merlin didn't even try to disguise the disgust in his voice. The more he got to know Arthur, the less he liked Uther. And he'd thought it wouldn't be possible to dislike the magic-hating king any more than he did already. "But if we disguised him, took him out at night, that might work."

Leon nodded. "I'll speak to the king."

"He'll refuse!"

"He's not a heartless man, Merlin. Have a little faith."

Merlin liked Leon very much, but sometimes he thought the knight had a rather naive outlook on life.

 

 

Uther Pendragon sat in his chambers, reading through endless reports. Even the short versions he insisted on seemed to take forever to get through. He was grateful for Sir Leon's interruption, until he saw that the steady knight had Arthur's manservant with him. It could only mean problems. He narrowed his eyes, seeing the boy shifting uncomfortably behind Leon.

As Arthur grew older, it was becoming more and more difficult to keep him out of sight. Sometimes he thought he would even repeal the ban on sorcery if it meant Arthur was restored to his true form. At twenty he was an adult and should be leading the knights and helping with the running of the castle, preparing to be king. He could do none of those things. But Uther feared the reintroduction of magic would only lead to more poor souls like his son being struck down by an evil sorcerer. Gaius would find a way to cure Arthur, and in the meantime Uther would continue killing as many people who practiced the dark art as he could.

"Sire," Leon gave a deep, respectful bow.

Belatedly Merlin followed suit, though he was far clumsier about it. Uther frowned at him. There had been no reports of the boy gossiping about Arthur in the kitchens, nothing to suggest that he was abusing his position. Still, there was something disrespectful about him, defiant. And, at the same time, rough and unpolished and quite unsuitable as a member of the royal household. Or he would be if the royal that he served was out in the public eye. As it was, he might as well stay.

"What is it, Leon?"

"It's about Prince Arthur, Sire. He's expressed a wish to try riding."

Uther sighed. "Arthur is not to be seen."

"No, but I thought that perhaps after dark, myself and a few trusted knights..."

"All my knights are trusted, Leon."

"Yes, of course. I meant ones who are more likely to be sympathetic to Arthur's situation. I could take them and we could help Arthur if he ran into any problems."

"It would be good for Arthur to get out," the serving boy piped up, unbidden. He had no sense of propriety at all, Uther thought. He noted Leon glare at the boy. At least that shut him up again briefly.

"Take Kay and Bedivere. Make sure he's not seen. This would reflect badly on him when he is recovered and eventually becomes king. You must do nothing to weaken his role."

"No Sire. But if I may, I was thinking of Sir Gwaine and Sir Lancelot. They are closer to Arthur's age, and can be discrete."

"And happen to be your personal friends. Sir Kay is one of my oldest and most trusted knights," Uther objected.

"Arthur doesn't like him." The servant boy really did have no sense of decorum.

"Merlin!" Leon hissed, and at least the boy had the decency to look a little abashed. "Sire, I apologise, Merlin is still learning our ways. But he is correct, Arthur would prefer to ride with the younger knights."

Uther suspected that there was something that Leon wasn't telling him about Kay. "I wasn't aware that Arthur knew either of your knights. They joined us at Camelot after... Afterwards."

"They've been guarding his tower. Recently we've been trying to build up Arthur’s strength and stamina. He's been walking to the library, helping with the research. It was necessary for them to go ahead of us, ensure the route was clear."

Gaius had mentioned this in one of his daily reports. Apparently Arthur was responding well. "Kay has also seen Arthur. There's no reason not to have him accompany you. He's led the searches for the sorcerer who's responsible for this."

Leon looked distinctly uncomfortable, and Uther knew he was right. The knights were all far too loyal to one another for Leon to tell him what was wrong, but whatever it was Uther made a mental note not to let Kay near his son again. And perhaps to ask Arthur... But no, the thought of watching his beloved son on the floor, laboriously scratching out letters oh so slowly was unbearable.  

"He has, Sire. But... when Arthur is restored. When, someday he is king, Gwaine and Lancelot will be at his side. It would be good for them to work with him now. And for me, there are none I would trust more than those two."

Uther tried not to think too much about when Arthur would be king. As he was, he would be overthrown and killed within a week, or worse, used as a puppet. How could he possibly lead, when nobody could understand a word he said? And yet, if there were anything to be concerned about with regards to Kay...

Perhaps it was time for someone else to lead the search. Not Sir Gwaine, who spent far too much time in the tavern for Uther's liking. But someone other than Kay.

"Do as you will. Arthur is not to be seen. And Leon," he paused, but it had to be said. "Tell Sir Gwaine that if I find he has been spending his regular visits to the taverns talking about my son, I will remove his tongue personally. And I do not make idle threats."

Leon paled slightly. The serving boy, Uther was pleased to note, remained appropriately silent. Perhaps with many more years of training he might amount to something after all.

 

 

Uther's approval of the riding scheme was surprising. Leon was charged with ensuring Arthur was absolutely not seen by anyone, but other than that he was told to do as he wished. Arthur, after all, had always loved riding. It raised Uther marginally higher in Merlin's opinion, but only very slightly. But then, before they had a chance to do anything about it, a way to break the enchantment was discovered.

Geoffrey of Monmouth was a stuffy sort of man, and hadn't been best pleased when Gaius first brought Merlin along to help him research a cure for Arthur. It seemed that in Geoffrey's opinion nobody under the age of fifty should be allowed in his library, and even then he had a shortlist of people he could stand to see in there.

Gaius was tolerated in there. Barely. The king was, after all, the king and so Geoffrey could hardly refuse him. And then... those two were in fact the entire shortlist. Merlin, who managed to knock over a stack of books on his first visit, and upset a pile of papers Geoffrey had been painstakingly indexing on his second, had not given a good first impression. He was certain that Geoffrey was keeping an eye on him, because every single time he looked up the man was staring at him. Merlin doubted that it was in any way due to his natural charm.

Merlin managed not to knock too many more of Geoffrey's precious books over, and sat quietly reading. After a few weeks he found that Geoffrey no longer watched him quite so closely. Not until he brought Arthur and Leon with him, anyway.

Leon was the steadiest and most sensible person Merlin had ever met, and it seemed that Geoffrey agreed with this opinion as he barely spared the knight a second glance. He glared at Gwaine though, and insisted that he stand guard _outside_ the door, as far from any books as possible. However, Leon was a Camelot man through and through, and refused to go anywhere near the magical tomes that Gaius and Merlin had been poring over. It meant there was little point in him being there, but he was useful for keeping people away from Arthur, so that was something.

Arthur, who had more cause than most to fear magic, had no concerns about the books. He told Merlin that three heads were better than two, and insisted that he be allowed to help with the search.   Whilst the language stumped him, he was the one who made the breakthrough.

"There!" he announced one afternoon, pushing a book under Merlin's nose. "That looks like me!"

Arthur had been looking at the pictures. He frequently interrupted Merlin's search with questions about some odd-looking drawing or diagram, usually completely irrelevant to anything they might be looking for. It was the fifth such interruption in the past hour and Merlin was tempted to ask Leon to help Arthur back upstairs. He'd found quite an interesting passage on object transformation and was wondering if he could convert the spell in some way to turn Arthur back. But that would take a lot of research, and wouldn't be helped by having the prince sitting there with him being distracting.

"Just wait for a minute," Merlin urged. "This is complicated."

Arthur gave a huff of impatience, then shoved the book right under Merlin's nose. "That's me!"

Merlin resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't going to get anything done while Arthur was there, and reluctantly took the book. It had a small plate on the left hand side with a drawing on it of a man hunched over as he walked, his legs curled in on themselves. That could indeed be the enchantment that held Arthur, Merlin thought. But it could also be a medical book or countless other things. He really didn't want to get Arthur's hopes up, but realised it was probably a little late for that.

"What does it say?" Arthur asked impatiently. The book was written in an ancient version of the Druid tongue, there was no chance that Arthur would understand it.

Merlin sighed, pushing his own tome aside, and took the one Arthur had found.

"Well?"

"Let me read it. It's an old language, I need to work it out."

It was difficult to concentrate with Arthur leaning over him eagerly. The words were cryptic and some of the lettering was covered by an old, large stain on the page.

"I don't know," he admitted after a while. "It might be. It says something about love and time and the end of all things. And a mirror image not being true. And that love is the restoration."

"Love?" Arthur pulled the book back towards him and stared at it as if he could force a translation simply from his steely gaze. Then he turned the page. "Oh."

There was a drawing, quite unmistakable, of a man and woman locked in a passionate embrace. Merlin watched Arthur's face as he looked at the picture. There was a desperate longing in his eyes when he turned to look at Merlin again. Merlin wondered if it was for the transformation alone. It had probably been a very long time since anyone had held the young prince close or treated him with any sort of tenderness. He was probably aching for some girl to hold him like that.

"The man in the picture... he's not deformed any more."

"No."

"And it's the same man? He's cured?"

"It's not a sickness, Arthur. It's an enchantment."

An enchantment by a vindictive sorcerer who didn't have the decency to lift the curse once he'd realised it had hit the wrong person. If what they had found was to be the only way to release Arthur, then it was a cruel spell indeed.

"It feels like a sickness. But the cure..."

"Love. If I'm reading it correctly, it's love."

"Sex?" Arthur looked at the picture again. "They're having sex."

"No, it's love. It has to be true love, from the heart." Merlin looked down at the page again. "Pure, selfless love, freely given. True love's kiss, from the look of that picture. It's the emotion that breaks the spell."

"Not the sex? Because, you know, if it's just the sex there are whores who would take the money and not care about...” he gestured at himself, his ungainly body. "How I am."

"It's not the sex," Merlin confirmed. He knew what Arthur wasn't saying. The sex was easy, just pay a professional. Finding someone to love him when he couldn't even communicate with them was next to impossible. "It has to be from the heart. That's what it says."

Arthur stared at the book for a moment, then slammed it shut. "Stupid book." He picked up another one. "There has to be something else, another way."

Merlin gently took the book away from him. "I need to show this to Gaius and Geoffrey. They're better with the old languages than I am. I could be reading it wrong. And it may not even be what we're looking for."

What he didn't say, and wasn't going to tell Arthur was that there were rarely other ways to break a spell. The spell was cruel and so the way to break it would be as well. He looked at Arthur who had his head down. It was on the tip of his tongue to offer some false reassurance, to tell Arthur that there would be other ways. But so far he had been unfailingly honest with the prince, and he wasn't going to stop that now.

"Try some of the other books," he suggested. "I'll take this one to Gaius."

But when he returned later, Arthur was still staring at the floor, the books untouched.

 

 

Merlin walked nervously beside Gaius as they approached the king. He never liked getting anywhere close to Uther, the king's reputation for killing anyone who had even the slightest hint of magic was more than a little repugnant. And then there was that threat he made last time as to what he would do to Gwaine if he talked about Arthur in public. Merlin made sure he kept his mouth firmly closed. Not that he would ever do anything that would hurt Arthur. He found to his surprise that he had become very fond of the prince. Too fond, if he were honest. If Arthur was restored he would cast Merlin aside like a worn shirt.

Uther barely even looked up when they came in but carried on writing at his desk. Merlin wondered if it was an order for some poor sorcerer's demise.

"Gaius. Any news to report?" Uther's weary tone suggested that he thought the possibility unlikely.

"Yes, Sire."

Uther stopped writing and looked up, surprised. "You do?"

"We believe we may have found a cure for the prince's condition."

Uther's face, surprisingly, broke into a rare smile. "That's wonderful news, Gaius."

"Perhaps. The cure, or the way to break this particular spell, is love."

"Love?"

"True love... we think it says true love's kiss, but the book is exceptionally old and we aren't sure. But that appears to be the way to rid Arthur of the enchantment."

"True love's kiss?" Uther repeated, getting to his feet. He was, Merlin noted, no longer smiling.

"That's what the book indicates. Yes."

"I see. Tell me, Gaius, do you actually look at my son when you're treating him?"

"Of course."

"And have you not noticed that he is not only deformed but unable to talk?"

"Yes, Sire."

"So," Uther had walked over to stand in front of them, leaning slightly forward so that he was looming over Gaius. "How exactly do you think he's going to persuade any girl to fall in love with him?"

Merlin had a huge respect for Gaius, even if he didn't always make it apparent. It was moments like this, when the king was being overbearing and downright scary, that really made Merlin appreciate Gaius. Because the man was just standing there, barely reacting to Uther.

"That is the cure, Sire. Unless we can find the actual sorcerer, and that has proved impossible."

"There must be another cure! Find it!"

Gaius gave a little sigh. "During the purge you had a great many books burned, and the knowledge they contained burned with them."

"Are you daring to blame me for this?"

"No. I am merely pointing out that we have limited resources at our disposal. It has taken several years to locate this information. It is rare for a spell to have more than one resolution. Rarer still, given how little I can find on this particular spell, for it to be recorded. This may well be the only option we have."

Uther glared at him, but that failed to change anything and Gaius merely stared back at him.  

"It's _no_ option," Uther told him. "Regardless, we'll find him a girl. Does King Lot not have a herd of daughters, one of whom is supposed to be blind?"

"He does, but as Arthur's only method of communication is visual, that would prove problematic when it comes to the whole business of falling in love," Gaius reminded him gently. Merlin stared at the king, wondering if he'd ever had the faintest idea what it was like to fall in love. Apparently he had, with Arthur's mother, but it was hard to imagine. He was probably going to go about finding his son a lover in the worst possible way, and never succeed.

"There must be a way."

"Having him locked up in the tower all the time won't help," Merlin put in. Gaius gave him a warning look and he ducked his head, knowing he was going to get a lecture later. As it was Gaius had raised an eyebrow disapprovingly. Merlin had learned to respect the eyebrow. Uther didn't look tremendously impressed either.

"Perhaps not," he mused. "But neither will displaying him to the world."

"Perhaps a kind girl, Sire. One more tolerant than most. The princess Mithian is known for her good sense, or..."

"Good sense is hardly going to be a likely precursor to passionate love," Uther snorted. "No, I will think on this. A silly girl might be better. Less likely to think things through, to want more than the crown and the title of queen. Mithian is far too sensible. We'll find one who cares little for who she marries, so long as she is made queen."

It was unlikely to end well, Merlin thought.

 

 

Princess Vivian was not a girl of good sense. Merlin could tell this as soon as he met her.

Her father, King Olaf, doted on her. That wasn't unusual in a parent who only had one child, Merlin himself knew his own mother had a tendency to spoil him if she ever got the chance. But a peasant woman struggling to make ends meet and a king with more wealth than he would ever need had a world of difference between them and it showed in their offspring.

The princess arrived in a carriage. She was complaining about the journey as soon as she stepped out onto the courtyard. But that was nothing compared to the complaints that she was capable of. Her room was too small. The new room they put her in was too draughty. Her food was too cold, then too hot, then too salty. The maid servant she'd been given was useless. The replacement maidservant was apparently even worse and left the princess's room in tears.

Merlin found the serving girl sitting in Morgana's room with Gwen and Morgana both trying to comfort her. He wasn't sure if they were doing it out of kindness, or out of a wish to silence the huge, gulping sobs that the girl was making.

He stood there awkwardly in the doorway for a few moments, waiting for a pause in the sobbing. It didn't come, but Morgana looked up and called him inside.

"That awful troll Vivian caused this. Merlin, you can't let her see Arthur. She's vile, she'll be unspeakable to him."

Merlin had warmed to Morgana during his time serving Arthur. She was harsh and kind in turns, but she was one of the few people still bothering with Arthur and for that alone he rated her highly.

"I don't think I'll be able to prevent it," he told her. The serving girl was still sobbing. Gwen had an arm around her and was talking softly to her but it didn't seem to have much of an effect. "The king is determined that Arthur should come down for dinner and be properly introduced."

"Is Uther insane?" Morgana snarled. "Dinner would be the worst possible setting. Arthur is clumsy and awkward at the best of times. With food to deal with as well..."

"I'm supposed to serve him during the meal. Make sure everything he's given is prepared so that he'll manage. Um... and the king says you're to let Princess Vivian borrow Gwen."

Gwen looked up in horror. "Me?"

"I will do no such thing!" Morgana got to her feet. "Gwen, you stay here and look after Ellen. Merlin, you come with me."

Merlin gave a quick, worried glance at Gwen, then hurried after Morgana. The king's ward could move very fast when she wanted to, and he had to run to catch her up.

"Where are we going?" he asked as they strode along the corridor.

"To see Uther."

That was what Merlin had been afraid she was going to say. Uther hadn't been terribly pleased earlier on, when he had instructed Merlin on his duties and been told that Merlin didn't think having Arthur dine in public was a good idea.   He was unlikely to react well once he realised that Merlin had appraised Morgana of the situation.

"Perhaps I could just wait outside?"

"Nonsense. I need you to confirm what I'm saying." She rapped on the door to Uther's chambers and barely waited for a response before barging straight in.

"I don't think the king is going to be interested in what I have to say," Merlin told her. He followed her inside regardless. It seemed to him that he was being dragged out to see the king far too often these days. It was hardly a safe situation for a sorcerer in hiding.

Uther was sitting at a desk writing. He looked up, gave a small smile when he saw Morgana which faded instantly when he noticed Merlin behind her.

"Morgana. And Arthur's servant." He narrowed his eyes. "I trust this isn't going to be a repetition of the outburst this morning. We do have stocks standing empty at present."

"I'm sure whatever Merlin said was perfectly true. Uther, you can't possibly be thinking of letting Vivian anywhere near Arthur! She's going to be vile to him."

"The cure is true love's kiss. He's not going to meet his true love sitting up in that tower."

"Nor is he going to find it in Vivian. The only person she loves is the reflection she sees in the mirror every morning."

"Which is why she'll do everything she can to obtain the position of queen. And once Arthur is restored she'll like him well enough. This will work."

"It won't work!" Morgana raged back at him. "How can you be so cruel? Arthur won't be able to retaliate when she's foul, and she will be. She's reduced two maidservants to tears already... and she's not having Gwen under any circumstances!"

"She might talk about Arthur's condition afterwards," Merlin put in. Uther was probably going to throw him in the stocks anyway, he thought he might as well give him good reason. "Tell people. People outside Camelot."

"Are you still here?" Uther growled, but it was with slightly less anger than before. Merlin thought that perhaps the king was listening.

"I just know you don't want people gossiping about him and I thought..."

" _Silence!_ " Uther roared at him. "Get out!"

"It's hardly Merlin's fault," Morgana protested. "He's right, Vivian will talk..."

"Out!" Uther commanded. "Both of you!"

Merlin had to admire Morgana. He had the urge to just run out of the door, but she stood straight, looked the king in the eye, and stated that they were right, before turning and walking out, head held high. Merlin didn't hang around to find out what sort of mood the king was in after that outburst.

 

 

Uther was not the kind of man who listened to other people. He certainly wasn't going to listen to the advice of a woman, and few had any hope that he would listen to that of a young servant.

However, it appeared that some small part of what Merlin and Morgana had said to him had sunk in. There was no meal. Instead, he summoned Arthur to the throne room to meet Vivian.

It went every bit as badly as Merlin and Morgana had feared. Worse, in many ways. Vivian's bloodcurdling screams followed Arthur and Merlin as they hastened back to Arthur's tower, not waiting around to hear what she might have to say. Uther had that pleasure. Shortly afterwards, Princess Vivian left Camelot.

Everyone was glad to see the back of Princess Vivian. Mistakenly, those close to Arthur took it to mean that the king had given up on the idea. He hadn't.

 

 

Arthur didn't say a word as they walked back to his rooms. His expression was closed off, set and determined. He didn't acknowledge Leon, standing at the foot of the stairs with Percival, and would probably have slammed the door in Merlin's face if his manservant had been less agile. As it was, the door still slammed but Merlin was inside. He could rarely do without Merlin, but right then he just wanted to be by himself.

"Leave me, Merlin."

Merlin of course ignored the order, following him across the room to the window. Out in the courtyard a carriage was being brought out. Arthur looked down at it. It would be to take Vivian away, of course.

"I could fill the bath, that might be relaxing..." Merlin offered.

Arthur turned and glared at him. "I told you to go."

"Not while you're like this. You're worth a thousand of that stupid girl."

"Just go." Arthur went back to the window, pressing his face against the glass.

"Wine?"

"Because that will make everything right again? Merlin, please. I just want some time by myself. After all, I should be used to it by now, shouldn't I?"

He didn't cry, because he had been raised to be a warrior, to never show weakness. But at that moment he thought he'd never been closer to it. He knew Morgana had tried to stop the meeting with Vivian. But Uther was so obstinate, so determined that he was right, he was the one who had brought Arthur to this. Sometimes it was hard not to hate his father.

Merlin stayed where he was, stupidly loyal servant that he was. Arthur wondered if he thought that if he left then Arthur would do something stupid like throwing himself out of the window. It wasn't a bad idea. Merlin was talking to him, low and earnest.

"We'll find a way to break the enchantment, Arthur. I promise we will. And it won't be through making you marry someone like that. You have to believe in yourself, believe in me. I can see... I can see what you really are."

There was of course the danger that Merlin was addled in the head. Perhaps he'd breathed in too many of Gaius's potions as they brewed. Arthur put as much scorn into his voice as he could when he replied. "Because a dragon told you there was a prophecy about me? Well your dragon got it wrong, Merlin. There's no chance of a cure, and there's no chance that I'll be king. Did you hear her? She said I was a monster. A _monster_. And that's what people think, everyone who sees me. My father is living in a fantasy if he thinks he'll ever find a woman desperate enough to have me." He frowned as Vivian appeared down in the courtyard below, surrounded by trunks and servants. Abruptly he turned away from the window again. "Who would? I don't know how you stand it. I make myself sick every time I look in the mirror. In fact, why is there even a mirror in here? You wanted to do something useful, take that away."

The mirror had been brought up on Arthur’s own request, so that he could see what he looked like before he was presented to the princesses. Arthur knew it, but he wasn’t going to admit to it.

"I could show you," Merlin said softly. "You could see what you're really like."

"I can see that perfectly clearly," Arthur snapped. "Now do as you're told. And don't come back, you've got the rest of the day off." He started to make his way over to his bedchamber, intending to shut himself in there, preferably with a satisfying door slam to accompany his departure. Merlin caught him halfway, grabbing his arm and then pulling him close.

"Let me show you."

Arthur gave an ineffective tug to get free, not actually intending to do so. Merlin had to know that it was only for show and that Arthur could have pulled free without any difficulty.

"This is what I see," Merlin told him, holding him tightly.

"I can't see anything."

"Close your eyes."

Arthur obeyed. There were times when he wanted to close his eyes permanently. Less of them since Merlin came into his life. More of them since his father started trying to find him a bride.

"Now I really can't see anything."

 

 

Merlin shushed him. "This is what I see, Arthur. This is what you really are."

There was a man, standing there in the dark. He was tall and strong, and wore a crown as if he were born to it. He wore the armour of a knight, and carried a sword at his side, and he glowed faintly golden, like the sun.

"Do you see?" Merlin whispered.

"That's not me."

"It's everything I see when I look at you. It's what you are inside, what you should be for the world to see."

"The world just sees a monster."

"Shhh, you're not a monster. You're the most beautiful thing in the world. And I'll restore you. I swear I will, even if I have to walk to the ends of the earth to find the spell that cures you. I won't ever have some empty-headed girl mock you like that again. She'll be sorry, one day."

He wondered about Merlin, sometimes. But the image was strong, steady. It was someone that he wanted to be. So he didn't pull away, and just took a moment to be held, seeing that other Arthur that he should have been, memorising every inch of him.

When Merlin stepped back, releasing him, he could see that his servant’s eyes were still faintly glowing gold. That was amazing too. Sometimes he forgot just what it was that he had at his disposal. Perhaps Merlin really would find a way to break the spell. One day.

But now he was just a simple servant again, looking slightly awkward and embarrassed. And he tripped on the rug as he turned away. Hardly a terrifyingly powerful warlock.

"I'll fetch your dinner," Merlin told him. "And you should have that bath. It'll relax you."

Arthur just nodded, giving him a half-smile. "Whatever you say."

That seemed to brighten Merlin considerably. He grinned happily, heading for the door.

"Merlin."

His servant paused, looking back quizzically.

"Thank you."

Then the grin was back and he was gone.

Arthur didn't go back to the window. Vivian's words had hurt, but he tried not to think about her. Instead he thought of the vision Merlin had given him, and of Merlin's arms, caring and loving, holding him close.

 

 

The first attempt at getting Arthur on a horse took place a few evenings after Vivian had left.

As agreed with the king, they waited until dusk, when there was still just about enough light to see by. Arthur had been excited and apprehensive about it in turns all day. The horse he had ridden as a boy was long gone, and would have been too feisty in any case. Leon had carefully selected one of the calmest, steadiest mounts, expecting it to take a little time for Arthur to get back in the saddle as it were. She was an older horse, one they'd been using for noblewomen or children to ride. Her days of riding out on quests or to battle were long behind her.

The stables were remarkably quiet when the group arrived.   There had been no chance of clearing the courtyard, though Merlin knew Leon had tried. Too large an area, too busy. But the stables were empty, the imposing form of Sir Percival in the entrance warning anyone who might be curious that they should stay away.

In some ways, it might have been better to let people see Arthur, Merlin thought. Few would react as stupidly as Vivian had done. There would be staring at first but most people would get used to him. It was the inability to be understood that was the real problem.   A later stipulation that Uther had added to the riding experiment was that Arthur was not to speak in front of anyone who was not already familiar with his condition.

As Arthur was used to chattering away freely in front of Merlin and Gaius, it was going to be an interesting exercise for all of them. With Arthur disguised under a hooded cloak, nobody took any notice as he and Merlin crossed the yard. Merlin wondered if, in time, they'd be able to persuade the king to allow Arthur out thus disguised in daylight as well. Riding in poor light carried its own dangers, though the knights would have torches, and Merlin would never leave Arthur's side. Still, daylight would be better, and they could go further. One thing at a time though. First, they had to get Arthur up on the horse.

"I was wondering if we should try a ladies' saddle," Leon ventured.

Arthur's fierce growl left all of them in no doubt as to what he thought of that idea.

"Or not," Gwaine grinned. "Try this."

He'd got a sturdy stool that he placed beside the calmly waiting horse. "If it doesn't work, Perce could make himself useful for once and clear the area around the mounting block outside."

"Not your servant, Gwaine!" came from the doorway.

"You only have to ask!"

Leon rolled his eyes, and held out an arm to support Arthur. "Come along, Sire. Let's try this first."

To the relief of them all, the stool was enough of a step-up for Arthur to get on the horse. A quick re-arrangement of the cloak and they were good to go. Lancelot led the horses outside.

"Tell him I don't need to be led like a girl!" Arthur hissed at Merlin.

Merlin glanced at him worriedly, trying to think of a way to do so without making it apparent that he understood what Arthur had just said. "I suppose," he said conversationally. "That once we're away from the castle then we won't need to lead the horses? I mean, once we can see how brilliantly people can ride?" He glanced at Arthur, whose face was under the shadow of the cloak. He could tell that what he'd said probably hadn't helped.

Lancelot didn't look back. "That's right," was all he said. He mounted his own horse along with the rest of the group, but made no move to stop leading Arthur's. The little procession walked quickly out of the gate, past the town and out into the fields beyond. More than once Arthur leaned forward, trying to get the leading reigns back but Lancelot hung onto them grimly.

"Sire, please. We're nearly out of sight of the castle," Leon attempted. He was, Merlin thought, probably regretting this by now.

"Don't annoy the knights, Arthur," Merlin attempted. "You don't want them telling your father that this didn't work, and refusing to take you out again, do you?"

Arthur glared at him. Well, he turned his head, and it was difficult to see because of the hood, but Merlin just knew (from experience) that he was being glared at. Arthur did stop trying to grab the reins though.

Finally, Leon decided that they were far enough away. They were out in a meadow, the lights from the towers of Camelot visible in the distance over the tops of the trees. Lancelot dismounted, handed the reins to Arthur, and then stepped back.

"Slowly at first," he warned.

"I've been going slowly for years!" Arthur snapped back at him, though only Merlin understood that was what he had said.

"No, Arthur..." Merlin began, but the prince was off, barely letting his horse trot for more than a few moments before he urged her into a canter and then a full-blown gallop across the meadow. It was dangerous in the fading light, but that didn't seem to matter to Arthur.

Leon swore, and gave chase. Gwaine just watched, laughing.

"I don't think we need to worry about whether Arthur's capable of riding," Lancelot pointed out. He was back on his own horse, but showed no sign of wanting to join in Leon's pursuit. Leon was catching Arthur, his horse was faster and fitter.

"Let him go! He's fine!" Gwaine called over to Leon, who ignored him.

"He can certainly ride," Lancelot commented. "This was a good idea of Leon's."

"Don't tell him that," Gwaine groaned. "He'll be even more insufferable!"

"Remind me why we brought you along for this?"

"The king asked for Gwaine especially," Merlin couldn't resist saying. He didn't know Gwaine that well yet despite having usually been at Arthur's side when the knight was escorting them down to the library. But he could tell that the man wasn't one to take offence easily, and who liked to be teased almost as much as he liked tormenting people himself. "He's promised that if Gwaine says just one thing about Arthur..."

"I know," Gwaine stuck his tongue out, presumably just to prove it was still there. "Don't remind me. This had better be worth it. All I need is for someone chatty like Percival to let something slip..."

Merlin watched the riders still galloping around the field. Leon had caught up, but was keeping pace now rather than trying to slow Arthur down. From a distance Arthur looked just like any other horseman. Merlin amended that. He looked just like any other _accomplished_ horseman. "It's worth it to Arthur," he assured them. "He's been talking about it..." He stopped, realising his slip. Lancelot was looking at him, his expression unreadable. Gwaine was still watching the riders, oblivious. "I mean, he writes things down... we call it talking. It takes so long..."

Lancelot didn't say anything, just kept a cool, appraising look on his face.

"Yeah, Leon told us," Gwaine said. "You think they'll ever find a cure? Must be hard, not being able to talk to anyone."

"It would kill you, certainly," Lancelot told him.

"Funny." Gwaine looked to Merlin. "You've been working with Gaius. Isn't there anything that can be done to help Arthur?"

"We're going through every book in the library. So far, all we've found is that someone needs to fall in love with him. Which was why we all had to suffer Princess Vivian."

"Poor Guinevere," Lancelot mused. "If Princess Morgana hadn't been so sensible and faced up to the king, Gwen would have had to wait on that dreadful woman."

"I hear Uther's sending for another one," Gwaine told him. "I wondered why. Thought the old dog was after a new bride for himself. That would solve his succession problem."

"There isn't a succession problem!" Merlin snapped. "He has Arthur."

"Touchy. Interesting. Well, that's very noble and loyal, but Arthur can't rule anyone in his current condition. So. Problem. If I was Uther, I'd be grabbing the nearest nubile young princess and having her pop out a few spares, just in case."

"Well you're not. Arthur is the crown prince..."

"Don't let him wind you up, Merlin," Lancelot breathed. "Who's this princess then, Gwaine?"

Gwaine smirked at Merlin, who sulked quietly. He hadn't known there was going to be another attempt at finding Arthur a bride. Another spoiled, bratty princess wasn't going to be much use in breaking the enchantment, and he really didn't want to see Arthur in another bleak mood. "Elena of Gawant. Bohrs and Galahad rode out this morning."

"I met Elena once," Lancelot put in. He was watching Arthur now. The prince and Leon had sensibly slowed to a canter, but showed no signs of returning to the others.

"Another selfish, spoiled child?" Merlin couldn't help asking.

"Not at all. She's a lovely girl, not at all affected. She rides a horse as well as any knight. I liked her very much."

"Don't let Gwen hear you say that!" Gwaine grinned.

Lancelot looked slightly affronted. "There was nothing improper..."

"Of course there wasn't! Gods, you're even more straight-laced than Leon!" Gwaine told him, then muttered, "And at least Leon has a sense of humour. Sometimes."  

Lancelot shot him a sharp look. "She will do very well for Arthur," Lancelot continued, speaking mostly to Merlin. "She loves to ride, and she has no romantic pretensions."

Merlin sighed. He didn't know why he felt so unenthusiastic about Elena. "How is she going to love him if she has no interest in romance?" he asked.

"I didn't say that. She just... she's realistic about her expectations."

"Not so lovely after all then?" Gwaine asked.

"Very pretty. But perhaps... she's clumsy I suppose. Not quite what you would expect in a princess. I'm not sure the king will approve."

"The king would probably just be grateful that his son had been restored," Gwaine commented. "I would be."

"Uther Pendragon isn't the kind of man who does gratitude," Merlin pointed out a little bitterly.

"Careful, that's the king you're talking about," Lancelot warned. "But yes, I doubt Elena will have the grace to please him. Arthur, though, if he is restored, will have learnt something about tolerance from this experience and he will be different from his father. He will protect his wife."

Merlin wasn't so sure about the tolerance part, although he would trust Arthur to protect anyone that the prince thought vulnerable. If anything, Arthur's confinement had probably made him even more impatient. Although Merlin was hopeful that perhaps he himself was going some way towards showing the prince that at least his stance on magic users should be more lenient than his father's.

"So this cure," Gwaine leaned forward, interested. "How does it work? She marries him and he's cured? Or does she have to bed him and wham! Arthur's back to normal? Or is it looking for something else?"

"It's love, Gwaine," Merlin told him. "Possibly mixed with sex, yes. We don't know, it's a really old book that we found it in and some of the language is difficult to understand. She has to actually love him though, we're sure of that, not just love the idea of a crown on her head."

"Hmm..." Gwaine regarded the distant prince thoughtfully. "You know, what Uther really needs is a sorcerer of his own, one that could break the spell."

Merlin looked at him worriedly, but Gwaine appeared to just be musing, concentrating on the riders.

"That would be a foolish man indeed," Lancelot pointed out rather more sharply than Merlin would have expected. "A sorcerer in Camelot... how long would it take for the king to find some excuse to execute them?"

Gwaine shrugged. "Just saying. Fight fire with fire, that's all. Where I grew up, there weren't any bans on magic, and the world didn't fall apart."

"I thought you told me that where you grew up was the worst place on earth and you'd never return there on pain of death?"

"The king. Caerleon was the worst _king_ on earth."

Merlin knew the story. Gwaine's father had been a knight, killed in service to King Caerleon. The family had been left penniless, the king refusing to give them any help. That was one thing in Uther's favour, he thought. He'd seen the man give aid to the widows of Camelot's knights. None ever went poor or hungry. It was one of the things that had persuaded Gwaine to throw in his lot with them. That, and, according to Leon, the fact that he'd met Lancelot, claimed they were brothers, and both joined the ranks of Camelot's knights under the shield of Gwaine's noble birth. If the king suspected the truth, in this case he was too disgusted with Caerleon's treatment of a loyal knight's family to do anything about it. And besides, the two men had already more than proved themselves.

"You're supposed to have grown up together, remember?" Merlin pointed out.

Lancelot blanched. Gwaine grinned.

"That's true. And you're not supposed to understand anything that Arthur says," Gwaine pointed out. "So, we're all good, right?"

"You noticed that too?" Lancelot asked.

"Yep. The other day, when I was escorting them to the library. And today. I can't believe Leon hasn't spotted it too."

"You need to be more careful," Lancelot told Merlin.

"I don't understand..."

Gwaine just waved his hand, obviously not wanting to hear Merlin's denials. "We might not be blood brothers, lad, but neither of us come from here. You're safe enough with us knowing, and maybe even Sir Stuffypants out there too because he's so loyal to Arthur, but really you need to be more careful."

Merlin just stared at them both. Gaius was going to kill him. Death by disapprovingly raised eyebrow, no doubt. And then a long, long lecture on being more careful.

"Don't tell Gaius you know," he begged.

Gwaine threw back his head and laughed. "Gaius! Because his disapproval is far worse than being burned to death by the king!"

"You have no idea," Merlin groaned.

It had grown quite dark whilst they were talking, and seeing the riders was no longer easy. The pair seemed to be down to a trot now, though still making no effort to return.

"We should be going back soon," Merlin pointed out. "It's getting too dark."

"Then light the torches," Gwaine told him, then rolled his eyes at Merlin's expression. "Oh come on, Merlin, what kind of sorcerer can't light a torch? That's a basic skill, surely?"

"Leon might see..."

"He'll think you used a flint. Hurry up, before they get back."

Merlin looked to Lancelot, who nodded agreement. It was strange, being able to use his magic openly. But Gwaine was right, lighting the torch was a simple enough thing to do. It would be easy, he thought, to relax into using his magic in front of people. Already it came too naturally in front of Arthur, eventually he would become too complacent and that might cost him his head.

Sometimes, people didn't see what was right under their nose. He had to hope that remained the case.

"We should ride with them," Lancelot decided. "Come on." He lifted his torch and led the way over. Merlin trailed a little behind. He wasn't an overly confident rider, certainly not an accomplished one. He could see the evening ending up with him lying in the dirt, Arthur and his knights probably laughing down at him.

Small price to pay, really, if it meant Arthur was laughing. Arthur looked happier than Merlin had ever seen him, and that was before Merlin had potentially made a fool of himself with his comparatively poor riding skills. He smiled back at Arthur, liking the change.

He wondered if the princess would have the wit to see it.

 

 

"The riding was a success, Sire."

Merlin wondered why it was that Leon insisted Merlin accompany him whenever he reported on Arthur to the king. The knight didn't seem to be particularly sadistic or cruel, quite the opposite. And yet Merlin was there again, in the magic-hating king's presence. Admittedly, Leon had shown no signs of noticing that Merlin had any sort of magical ability and probably had no idea how much he was traumatising Merlin, but still Merlin thought that anyone could tell how intimidating the king was even if you weren't a magic user. Obviously Leon wasn't quite as nice as Merlin had thought. He stood in the shadow of the tall knight, hoping that the king wouldn't notice him.

"Excellent news. Did anybody see him?"

Because that was the most important thing to the king, Merlin thought. Whether anybody saw his shameful son. Not that getting outside and being able to move around freely had made Arthur happier than Merlin had ever seen him, but that he'd stayed out of sight.

"No, Sire." Leon bit his lip for a moment, then pressed on. "But Arthur is an accomplished rider. The cloak hid him well. We were wondering if perhaps he could ride patrol with us sometimes? Or go hunting?"

"At night?"

"We were thinking of during the day."

"Unthinkable! If someone saw him..."

"We could leave early, return at dusk. It would be no different from any other patrol, any other hunt, except perhaps a little longer."

"It's too big a risk. If people knew how weak the succession is..."

"People do know," Merlin put in. He felt the king's glare fall on him for daring to speak, but didn't give up. It was only a matter of time before he ended up in the stocks anyway. "Arthur's previous servant gossiped about him, people are always asking me about him. Some of the stories they've made up because they don't know the truth are far worse than the enchantment."

"If I find _you've_ been gossiping or spreading stories..."

"I would _never_ do that to Arthur," Merlin said firmly. And he must have been convincing, because Uther stopped whatever threat had been heading Merlin's way, regarded him and just nodded. In anyone else Merlin might have thought it was approval. But that would be too much to hope for.

"See that you don't."

Leon shifted a little uncomfortably. Merlin fought against wondering if the knight brought him in just to deflect Uther's potential irritation. "About the patrols..."

Uther glared at him.

"It would mean a great deal to Arthur," Merlin added.

"We would be extremely careful," Leon continued. He was, Merlin thought, very brave. If he hadn't known Leon as well as he did now, he wouldn't have seen even the slightest hint of nervousness. "If you saw how comfortably he rides, what an improvement it has made to him..."

"Can he talk?"

Leon glanced at Merlin, then away. Did that mean he knew? Merlin wasn't sure and he wasn't going to risk finding out. "No."

"He needs to be able to speak, Leon. He can't be king if nobody can understand him. I doubt that any amount of horse-riding will solve that. Take him out if you must, but I will hold you..." he glanced at Merlin with a look of faint distaste. "...Both of you responsible if anything goes wrong."

"Thank you, Sire," Leon gave a respectful bow and moved to leave.

"Boy, a moment."

Merlin froze, looked worriedly at Leon, then at the king. He was grateful that Leon didn't leave him, but that didn't stop the cold shiver that ran down his spine just at being addressed by the king.

"In a day or two the princess Elena will arrive at Camelot. The girl is apparently less flighty than Vivian was and more likely to accept him. You'll see that Arthur is dressed suitably to attend dinner. You will be in attendance along with my own manservant and his assistant. You will assist Arthur at every opportunity, and cover for him whenever required. Elena is to be given the best possible impression of my son. Tell Arthur he is not to make that dreadful noise in her presence. We will tell her he has been struck dumb by the enchantment. He can communicate in writing to her."

"Yes, Sire." Merlin paused, then added, "Arthur is more adept with certain foods. Perhaps Cook could be persuaded to adjust the menu accordingly?"

Uther looked at him in surprise, and almost, _almost_ looked pleased. "A good idea.   Draw up a list and hand it to my manservant. Provide a list of foods to avoid as well." He paused. "Presumably as Gaius's apprentice you are able to read and write?"

"I can write. And I have a lot of practice reading. Arthur's instructions to me have to be written down."

Uther nodded approvingly. Merlin wondered if he could bottle the moment and keep it. He had a feeling he would be needing it.

 

 

"Another princess?"

Arthur didn't take the news well. He sat on the edge of his bed, head in hands.

"Your father wants you to join them for dinner."

"Oh gods!" Arthur didn't look up.

"Princess Elena has a reputation for being kind-hearted. Sir Lancelot has met her."

"Oh I'm sure she was very kind-hearted to Lancelot. Have you seen Lancelot? Tall, dark, ridiculously handsome. I'm sure there are very few women in the world who aren't kind-hearted towards him. Perhaps father could send him along instead. He won't give her nightmares."

Merlin hovered worriedly, not quite sure what to do for the best. He hadn't actually met Elena himself, so had no way of knowing what she was like. But he trusted Lancelot's judgement. Lancelot, after all, thought Gwen was the most perfect woman alive, and Merlin had so far seen no evidence to contradict this.

"I'm... to give Cook a list of foods you can eat without...um... problems..."

Arthur's head shot up and he glared at Merlin. "You mean without me drooling or losing half of it out of this ridiculous excuse for a mouth?"

"Well..." Merlin fidgeted uncomfortably. "It's been better since I started asking for particular foods, hasn't it?"

Arthur sighed heavily, and lowered his head into his hands again. "Everything's been better since you arrived, Merlin. You know that. But it won't be enough to get me through this. This girl... she isn't going to want something like me. My father can't possibly truly believe this will work. He won't even come up here and look at me himself unless he absolutely has to. Even for this, he's sent you up."

"Because he thinks I'm the best manservant ever?" Merlin attempted. He beamed at Arthur, waiting for the prince to lift his head and roll his eyes, or throw something at Merlin. Anything to lift him out of his current bleak mood. When nothing happened, he tried a distraction. "You know, your father also agreed that you could go out on patrol with Leon. During the day."

"Really?" Arthur looked up at that, more surprised than pleased.

"Yes. It's going to be an early start, but he's said you can do it. Leon argued very strongly in your favour."

"He's a good friend. We'll be with Lancelot and Gwaine again? None of the others?"

"Just them. Possibly Sir Percival as well, sometimes."

"Tomorrow?"

"I don't know. Gwen has to come up later to measure you for new clothes. She may need you around to try them on."

Arthur laughed at that, though it was a short, bitter laugh. "As if clothes are going to make any difference. They could dress me in rags and I would look no worse."

"Don't tell Gwen that," Merlin pleaded. "She'll try as hard as she can."

"And I can say whatever I like to her. It's not as if she'll understand me, now is it?" Arthur pointed out. "Oh, don't worry, I'll be nice. I want her boyfriend on side, after all. He'll need to be up and ready for the early morning ride."

Merlin wasn't entirely sure that Lancelot was actually Gwen's boyfriend as such. There had been a lot of longing looks on both sides and a lot of sighing and pining on Gwen's side, much of it to Merlin and Morgana.

"Tell her to come along now, she can get started. Then tomorrow I can go on patrol. Tell Leon we can go tomorrow, Merlin. No need to wait until after I've been humiliated in front of this princess."

Arthur was, Merlin noted, very bossy and demanding. He wondered just how Arthur had managed for all those years when he'd had nobody to understand him. He was certainly making up for it now that he had Merlin.

 

 

Merlin had created two lists in the end. One had all the foods Arthur could eat with reasonable dignity. The other had everything that should be completely avoided. Peas were right at the top. If Merlin never had to clear up the mess from those particular vegetables ever again it would be too soon. He was still finding clusters of little old dried up ones in corners of Arthur's quarters, probably dumped or thrown there in a fit of temper at some point. It had been months since any had been served to the prince.

He passed the lists to George, as Uther's manservant was busy and George was apparently expecting them. Merlin had labelled them both clearly enough, and anyway the cook would know. Grumpy though she was, she rarely came up with foods that Arthur couldn't eat now.

"I could take them to Cook myself," Merlin offered, but George just fixed him with that disapproving stare he had. It wasn't a patch on Gaius's but that didn't mean Merlin couldn't see it for exactly what it was.

"No need. Edward and I will need to prepare a menu from this first," he looked back at the lists. "It won't be easy."

Merlin, apparently, had to have more training now that he was to serve at table. The training had involved a great deal of spillage, and George had several times lost his temper. With George it was often difficult to tell when that happened because he was so uptight at all times, but he'd definitely been even colder than usual. Then Uther's manservant, Edward, joined them and the pair of them proceeded to put Merlin through one of the more miserable afternoons of his life at Camelot. Neither man seemed to think he was up to the task of manservant to a prince, and certainly not to the task of serving food to a king and visiting princess. By the time he finally got away, escaping to take Arthur's dinner up to him, he was even more confused about the correct etiquette for serving at table than he had been at the start.

It didn't occur to him at that stage to think that the confusion might have been deliberate.

 

 

It was stupid, Arthur knew, to be so excited about going out on patrol. But after so long, finally being trusted to do it was such a huge move forwards that he couldn't help it. He was up and dressed long before Merlin stumbled up the stairs with his breakfast, bleary-eyed and yawning, and regarded his manservant with disapproval.

"Honestly Merlin, look at the state of you! It's nearly dawn, Leon will want me downstairs soon if we're to leave before most people get up."

Merlin mumbled something about needing to sleep, and slumped down in the chair opposite Arthur whilst the prince settled down for his breakfast.

Merlin was hopeless, there was no getting away from it. Arthur wouldn't swap him for the most efficient manservant in the world, but really sometimes he was beyond sloppy. It was one of those times. Arthur sighed, and pushed some of the bread and cheese towards him, knowing his servant would have fallen out of bed at the last moment, rushed (well... what passed for rushing as far as Merlin was concerned, anyway) down to get Arthur's breakfast and not got around to eating anything himself. He normally shared Arthur's meals, something that worked well for both of them. Merlin was still as thin as anything, but that appeared to be his natural state and at least he no longer looked as if he was about to pass out from hunger.

"You're not really dressed for a long ride," Arthur noted. The bread was good, it must have just come out of the oven. Someone in the kitchen obviously had a soft spot for Merlin, he always seemed to manage to procure the best cuts of meat and the freshest food in quantities that were always far too much for Arthur. That had never happened with any of his previous servants. He hoped it didn't mean that Merlin was about to settle down with one of the kitchen maids or something. It was selfish, he knew, but he liked having Merlin all to himself.

"This is all I've got," Merlin pointed out. Or at least that was what Arthur thought he said. It was difficult to tell because he was talking around a mouthful of food. And really, if people thought Arthur made a mess when he ate, they really did need to take a good long look at his servant. Merlin had half the crust of the bread starting to make a home in his neckerchief.

Arthur had noticed the other night that Merlin had been shivering in his thin jacket by the time they'd finished the ride. It might be warmer during the day, but Arthur wasn't going to risk it. There were plenty of clothes stored away that Arthur was never going to wear again. Even if they somehow managed to break the curse, Arthur knew he'd long since outgrown them. He was fifteen the last time he'd worn them, after all. It had been enough of a struggle finding something suitable to ride in after all this time. It was lucky Gwen was such a talented seamstress. She'd been busy that week.

"Go through the chest of clothes that didn't fit me, find something warm for today. Then have Gwen go through them all, see which ones she can adjust to fit you." He stopped, seeing Merlin was beaming at him delightedly. "What? You're my manservant, you should look the part. Hurry up, we need to go. I don't want half the castle staring at me and Father deciding to lock me back up here again forever."

Merlin didn't give up his bread and cheese, and left a trail of crumbs across the floor. He was soon back with a thick tunic and an old jacket in Camelot red that had been a favourite of Arthur's when he was a boy. Merlin wasn't to know that, of course. Arthur looked at it a little longingly, reminded of times long past when he could just race through the castle, get on his horse and ride to his heart's content. Things were a lot easier then.

"Well put them on then!" Arthur told him. "Don't stand there looking at them!"

"What if someone thinks I've stolen them?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm supposed to give you my cast-offs, _Mer-_ lin. How many of Morgana's old dresses have you seen Gwen wearing? Although somehow Gwen always manages to adjust them so that they look respectable on her."

Merlin grinned, then started to pull his shirt off. "Are you saying these things looked indecent on you too? Did you once stalk around the castle like some brazen..." He stopped, and although Arthur couldn't actually see his face because it was covered with the half-off tunic, he could imagine the huge blush that would be spreading across it. It would be in contrast to the expanse of pale flesh that was on display now. Definitely not as skinny as Arthur had expected. "Not that I'm implying that the Princess Morgana is anything other than respectable...I wouldn't...She's lovely... I meant you... I meant..."

"Just get dressed, Merlin. Hurry!"He looked away, down at his breakfast, strangely unsettled, though he wasn't quite sure why.

They were late, but only slightly. The sun hadn't fully risen, and few people were out and about. Those that were had far more important things on their minds than being interested in a small group of knights. Arthur kept his cloak wrapped tightly around himself, and the hood pulled low over his face. Leon helped him mount, and they were riding out of the gates within moments. This time there was no humiliating leading rein, Arthur rode alongside Leon, the other three riding behind.

Gwaine was annoying. Arthur hadn't noticed this during the first outing, or during the trips to the library, but he really was quite an irritating man. He'd whistled at Merlin when Arthur's manservant had appeared in his new clothing, and had even had the cheek to finger the material of the jacket. It was overly familiar, and Arthur thought that he might have to warn Merlin about it. Gwaine did have something of a reputation, and Merlin was quite vulnerable, alone as he was. It wasn't as if Gaius was going to be able to keep much of an eye out for him. Arthur could hear them now, talking about it again.

"Arthur gave it to me."

"Did he now?" Arthur could hear the smirk in Gwaine's voice even if he couldn't see it. "That was nice of him. What did you do to deserve that?"

"Gwaine!"

Lancelot, on the other hand, wasn't annoying at all. Arthur liked him a great deal. He liked the fact that the reprimand was accompanied by a distinct thump and a yelp of mock-pain from Gwaine. It stopped the stupid conversation anyway. Or some of it.

"Just teasing," Gwaine complained. "It looks good on you. Arthur has excellent taste."

Gwaine was definitely hitting on his manservant. Arthur gripped the reins tightly. At least Merlin wasn't flirting back, or at least it didn't sound as if he was. Arthur couldn't see, they were behind him.

"Ride with me, Merlin," he ordered, and was relieved to see that Merlin obeyed instantly.

Leon just looked at them, then back at Gwaine and Lancelot. Whatever he saw back there made him roll his eyes.

"You should ride with Arthur, Merlin," he advised. "You're better attuned to him than the rest of us. Tell me if you think he wants anything." He looked to Arthur. "Sorry, I don't mean to talk across you, or as though you're not there."

And that was one of the many reasons why Arthur thought Leon was one of the best people he'd ever met. He smiled at the knight, and rode on. There was no point in saying anything because Leon wouldn't understand. Beside him, Merlin kept pace. That felt good, having the two of them there, solid and dependable.

Even if Merlin's legs did stick out when he rode, and he somehow always managed to look as though he might fall off at any moment.

At least if he did that now it would be Leon and Arthur who helped him up and not Gwaine. He could hear Gwaine behind him tormenting his brother (and Arthur wondered how two people could be brothers when they were so very different) with some tales from the taverns he'd frequented. Actually, the stories were amusing again now that they weren't directed at Merlin. But then Merlin chose that moment to look back at Gwaine and laugh at something from the yarn he was now spinning, and suddenly the stories stopped being funny once more.

Gwaine aside, being out riding in daylight again was wonderful. He tipped his face up to feel the sunlight, the hood spilling back onto his shoulders as he did so. It didn't matter whilst there were just the five of them but he would need to remember to pull it back up if anyone else approached. That got Merlin's attention back to him again as well, another plus. He was, he realised, a little jealous of Merlin paying attention to anyone else. He was used to having his manservant's completely undivided attention. That was all it was. Gwaine started on another story.

"Does he _ever_ stop talking?" Arthur asked.

Merlin grinned at him, opened his mouth to answer then looked to Leon and closed his mouth again. Leon gave a little sigh, and urged his horse onward.

"The path gets narrower ahead," he said. "Best if I lead the way."

Arthur was sure that Leon knew. Merlin had told him that Gwaine and Lancelot had noticed them talking to each other, and Leon had been around them far more, far longer. But the tall knight was terribly entrenched in the ways of Camelot. He was probably torn between being glad Arthur had someone he could talk to, and being convinced he should turn Merlin in for sorcery. His answer was obviously just to ignore it and pretend it wasn't happening. The path, after all, was showing no sign of getting any narrower.

"You know," Arthur pointed out. "Your riding style is terrible. Put your heels down, tuck your elbows in and try to sit up straighter."

Merlin scowled at him, but made some effort to obey. In doing so he squeezed the horse with his knees and it happily trotted forward, thinking it was being asked to speed up.

"Not like that!"

Merlin slowed the horse with difficulty, and waited for Arthur to catch him up.

"You're a terrible rider."

"Well I haven't been riding all my life. We didn't have horses back in Ealdor," Merlin pointed out. "Or there were horses in the village, obviously, but my mother was very poor, she didn't have one and so I never rode until I got here. I don't think I'm doing that badly."

"Your seat's all wrong, you're holding the reins too loosely and you're confusing the horse half the time with your instructions."

"I'm not giving it instructions!"

"Exactly!"

"I don't think..."

Whatever it was that Merlin didn't think was interrupted by Gwaine and Lancelot riding up on either side of them.

"Gentlemen," Lancelot began, nodding towards Leon who was riding a little ahead of them, sitting in an obviously tense position on his horse, pointedly ignoring them. "Perhaps discretion would be a better option? At least a little?"

"Though Arthur's right if he's telling you that you're a hopeless rider," Gwaine added. He reached over and in what Arthur thought was a far too over familiar manner started pushing Merlin's arm until his elbows were at his sides and then, worse, doing the same with his leg. "That's better. Keep your knees down. Same on the other side."

Gwaine's touch lingered far too long for Arthur's liking. And he was right, of course, was getting Merlin into a far better position. If he started pushing Merlin's seat around as well though, Arthur thought he might have to hit him.

"What do you think, Arthur? Better?"

There were plenty more adjustments that could be made, but Arthur wasn't going to say so because Gwaine would probably decide Merlin was best placed on the saddle in front of him or something so that he could demonstrate even better. He just nodded.

"Much better."

Gwaine looked to Merlin, who confirmed what Arthur had said.

"Wonderful. You know, next time we could all go hunting or something... once you've learnt to ride properly." Gwaine grinned suggestively at Merlin. "I could help you with your seat if you like?"

"Tell him that isn't necessary and that I'll help you," Arthur growled.

Merlin looked at him a little worriedly, then gave Gwaine a huge smile. Arthur was very, very tempted to lean over and shove the knight off his horse. "Arthur would love to go hunting."

Perhaps he was going to push Merlin off his horse as well. It wouldn't be difficult given the precarious way he was sitting.

"And he'll help me with my riding. You've got other things to keep you busy."

Perhaps he wouldn't, after all. And hunting would be great.

Gwaine shrugged. "You only have to ask. I'd make time."

There was absolutely no question about it, the knight was definitely flirting with his servant. Arthur resolved to speak to Merlin about it when they were alone later. He probably had no idea how vulnerable he was to someone like Gwaine. Someone who probably had a different partner every night. Arthur knew all about it. That used to be him, years ago, and he hadn't even needed to bother flirting. He wondered if, had things been different, he would have been like Gwaine now. Merlin would have just been another servant. Perhaps they would have had a bet going, to see which one could have the new boy first. He looked sidelong at Merlin who was looking down and concentrating on how he was holding the reins of the horse now, a serious expression on his face. That would have hurt Merlin so much, he'd probably have gone straight back home to his village and they would never have seen him again. And they wouldn't have cared.

Perhaps feeling himself under scrutiny, Merlin looked up, gave him a small smile, and then went back to concentrating on what he was doing.

Arthur almost found himself hating himself for something he'd never done.

 

 

The princess Elena was very, very different to Vivian, that was apparent right from the start.

For one thing, she fell out of her carriage when she arrived. Arthur had been instructed by the king that he was to stay back, out of sight for now, but had said nothing about his manservant. And so Merlin was hanging out of the window, watching it all and relaying it back to Arthur.

"She's getting out... the king has stepped forward to greet her and... oh! She's slipped on the last step! She's fallen over... I think she's torn her dress too! Your father doesn't look very happy..."

Arthur pushed past him to have a look for himself. Nobody was likely to be looking up at the tower if the new princess was making that much of a spectacle of herself.

Princess Elena was sprawled in an ungainly heap in the middle of the courtyard. One of the knights, and Arthur wasn't surprised to see that it was Gwaine because it stood to reason that he'd charm his way in with anything that was intended for Arthur, had hurried forward to help her up. The king didn't look at all impressed.

"She's even clumsier than you!" Arthur pointed out.

Merlin glared at him in mock-hurt. "Hey, I could be replaced. I enjoyed being Gaius's apprentice. I'd like to go back to that. And you're clumsy too!"

"I have an excuse. Are you the victim of an enchantment, Sorcerer?"

"Don't call me that."

"Don't call me clumsy. And it's not as if anyone other than you knows that's what I said." He looked down into the courtyard again. Elena was on her feet, Gwaine giving her a little bow and stepping back to rejoin the other knights.

Arthur knew his father very well, despite the rarity of his visits these days. He recognised that when Uther stepped forward and offered his arm it was with a certain amount of reluctance and a definite air of disapproval. He stepped back from the window, knowing that Uther was likely to glance up as he accompanied Elena inside.

"She looks as if she's nicer than Vivian," Merlin pointed out.

"There are witches nicer than Vivian," Arthur told him. "Gwen was telling me what Vivian was like, while she was measuring for these clothes I'm supposed to wear. She made several of the serving girls cry, and Gwen nearly had to join them. If it wasn't for Morgana stepping in we might never have been rid of her. I'm sure she would have been very impressed with..." He gestured down at himself. "This."

Merlin peered out of the window again. "She just tripped over the edge of her dress. Your father stopped her falling over. He doesn't look very pleased. And she looks really embarrassed. I like her already!"

"Well you marry her then!" Arthur walked through to his bedchamber and sat down heavily on the bed. He wasn’t at all surprised when Merlin followed him, although Merlin did go straight up to the small window in the bedchamber and continue his observation of Elena.

“Oh, she’s tripped again!”

"Obviously she’s your soulmate,” Arthur growled. “The pair of you can fall over together. You can have the clumsiest children ever, and you can be king of wherever it is she comes from."

"Gawant," Merlin supplied helpfully. "She comes from Gawant."

"There you are then. King Merlin of Gawant. Perhaps you'll have a tower you can hide me in." Arthur found he felt quite weary just thinking about it. "You could pretend I was your brother or something. Take me out of here."

He was starting to feel tired more often, he'd noticed. Sometimes he slept for hours during the day after very little exertion. Gaius thought it must be the increased mental stimulation of having someone to talk to now, or perhaps the fact that Arthur was more mobile. But he never looked completely convinced when he said that, and Arthur wondered if there was something that was being hidden from him.

Merlin glanced back at him worriedly, but didn't rise to the bait. "She's gone inside. Come on, we've got to get you ready."

Arthur glared at him, then at the clothes Gwen had laid out ready, then back at Merlin. "I can't do this."

"Of course you can. I've sorted out the food, it'll all be things you can eat easily. And this..." he held up the robes that Gwen had adjusted. "Gwen's very clever. This is going to be very flattering."

"I don't care how clumsy she is, she isn't going to like me," Arthur grumbled. "I'm going to be stuck like this forever."

Merlin didn't say anything for a moment, just lifted up the shirt that Gwen had left on the bed and held it out to him. "Let's get you dressed. We can at least try, Arthur. And if this doesn't work, I swear to you I'll find a way to break the spell. You're not staying like this forever. You're supposed to have a great destiny, become a great king."

"That's according to your talking dragon, isn't it?" Arthur asked grumpily. "I still think you've been sampling Gaius's potions and just having strange dreams afterwards. There are no dragons."

Merlin held the shirt out again. "Just get dressed. We'll argue about the dragon another day."

 

 

The meal was going to be a first for both of them, Merlin thought as he escorted Arthur down to meet what perhaps would be his best hope of a future bride. Merlin had never served at table, not properly. In retrospect it might have been wise to have asked Princess Morgana if he could wait on her sometimes, just to soften any rough edges and pick up on what he should and shouldn't be doing. The training sessions with Edward and George had just been confusing, really. Now every fault was going to be shown up in full view of the king. And Uther wasn't known for his patience or tolerance.

Arthur had never, to Merlin's knowledge, eaten anywhere but his rooms since his enchantment. That was probably a mistake as well, Uther would have done better to have the pair of them practicing for months, to make sure they got this right.

He'd dressed Arthur carefully. Gwen had altered a shirt so that it disguised the worst of the deformity, and had tailored Arthur's cloak so that it fell evenly over his shoulders and down his back. They had attempted to adjust a set of chain mail, to make him look like the warrior prince he should be (and which from the recent sessions with the trusted group of knights it appeared he might yet become) but it didn't look quite right and limited his movement so they gave up on that idea.

Merlin paused outside the door to the room where the meal was to be held. Arthur looked pale and apprehensive, and on impulse Merlin squeezed his arm reassuringly. "It'll be okay."

"What if she screams? That serving girl screamed. And Vivian almost screamed the castle down. I can still hear her, Merlin."

"She won't scream." He hoped that it was true. "Ready?"

"No. But let's do it anyway."

Merlin took a deep breath, because he thought he was probably as nervous about this as Arthur was, then pushed the door open.

Gwen, George and Edward were already in place. George appeared to have been assigned to Elena, and was standing behind her looking terribly serious. Elena wasn't quite as immaculately neat and tidy as Merlin would have expected a princess to be. Whoever had dressed her was evidently even worse at their job than Merlin. Some attempt had obviously been made to tame her hair but it was slowly making a bid to escape from its bindings. And there was a scuff on her shoe, and the tiniest drop of what might be wine on the sleeve of her gown. There was something overly endearing about her though, and Merlin wondered if perhaps, just perhaps, there was a chance that this might work.

Gwen and Morgana were standing together looking more like the good friends Merlin knew them to be than a royal princess and her maid. Both of them smiled reassuringly as Arthur came in. Uther, who had been engaging Elena in conversation and evidently not enjoying the experience if the pained expression on his face was anything to go by, immediately took the opportunity to escape.

"Ah, Arthur. Come here." He beckoned them over, all friendly smiles and affability. Merlin dutifully stepped in behind Arthur, hoping he was playing his part well. Across the room, the kitchen staff had already laden the table down and been sent away. Edward, Uther's manservant, was over there now inspecting it all.

"Elena, this is my son, Arthur."

Elena had obviously been prepared. She didn't scream, or react badly in any way. Merlin decided that he liked her already just for raising Arthur's confidence like that. In fact, she smiled at Arthur and gave a rather inept curtsey. Merlin noticed the king's reaction to that, but Uther was a narrow-minded snob in addition to all his other faults, and that was never going to change. Elena's father was looking at Arthur with a similar expression, so at least there was equality in their lack of approval of the match.

"Arthur has been the victim of a cruel enchantment, and is unable to speak. My advisors are working night and day to find a cure. This that you see is an illusion, proof of the evils of sorcery.   Arthur is a strong and healthy young man. When we find the sorcerer who did this, they will wish for death long before it is granted them."

"That's terrible," Elena told Arthur. She took his hand, ignored the fact that it was gnarled and deformed in hers, and squeezed it sympathetically. "I am pleased to meet you, Arthur. I hope for your sake that your father's men find a cure for you soon."

Arthur opened his mouth to reply and Merlin nudged him sharply in the ribs, trying to remind him that he wasn't to speak.

"Sire, I shall fetch a quill and paper."

"Arthur can write, and understands everything you say," Uther continued pleasantly. He seemed quite unaware of how patronising he sounded, or that he was making Arthur sound like an imbecile.

Merlin scurried over to where he'd placed writing materials earlier that afternoon. He'd even thought to put out a small desk in case things went better than expected. The desk was still there, but the paper and quill were gone. He looked around, assuming someone had moved them but they were nowhere to be seen. Catching George's eye, he mouthed 'where's the paper?' George just shook his head and looked puzzled. Arthur was looking at him expectantly, and Merlin could see his face creasing into a frown when there was nothing forthcoming. He didn't dare look at Uther, he could just imagine the expression that would be forming on his face.

And then Gwen, sweet, lovely Gwen was suddenly pushing paper and quill into his hands. He wasn't sure where she'd found them but he just stammered a grateful thank you and hurried back to Arthur who was looking at him in some panic by that stage.

"Sorry, it must have been moved during the preparations," he explained. But even as he said it, he could see Edward looking across at him with more than a little annoyance. Probably, Merlin thought, this was just going to be one more way in which he had failed to be the great manservant Edward felt was due to the prince. Doubtless he would point this out to the king at some point in the near future.

It was strange that the papers had been moved. He'd specifically said to George that they needed to stay there and that Arthur would need them. George did look relieved though, so it wasn't as if he hadn't expected it to be there as well. Probably moved in the rush of servants being herded in with the food before Arthur appeared.

Arthur always struggled with a quill in his cramped fingers, but he leaned on the desk and wrote as best he could that he was pleased to meet her and that he hoped she would enjoy her stay at Camelot.

Elena beamed at him. Merlin could see how her hair got into such a mess, she was already fiddling with it, twirling a stray end carelessly in her fingers. She probably wasn't used to princes treating her with respect and politeness.

"Do you ride?" she asked. "I mean... can you ride? Are you able to since the enchantment?"

Arthur looked a little startled at the rambling, but nodded. It was quicker and less laborious than writing it down.

"Oh good!" Elena looked genuinely pleased. "I love riding. Perhaps we could go riding while I am here? Hunting, even. I'm very good."

It wasn't the most ladylike of occupations, and didn't appear to be winning her any more kudos from the king. Arthur, however, looked delighted. It was possibly the one thing that they might bond over. He wrote another note to that effect, saying that he would be pleased to take her riding.

They would probably struggle to keep Arthur out of sight whilst doing something so high profile, but that was another concern for another day.

"We should eat," Uther announced, sweeping away from the couple.

Emboldened by his success so far, Arthur offered Elena his arm and escorted her to the table. Merlin followed, carrying the quill and paper which was going to be essential if they were to continue communications.

Uther of course sat at the head of the table, with Elena's father, Lord Godwyn, at the other end. Morgana and Arthur were seated opposite each other, with Elena at Arthur's side. George, perfect servant that he was, stepped forward to serve the princess first. And that was when Merlin realised that there was something wrong.

The food, up and down the length of the table, consisted almost entirely of things that Merlin had put on the list to be avoided. It wasn't just a few things, it was nearly everything. There was hardly anything that Arthur could eat without difficulty. Arthur noticed it too, and looked to Merlin worriedly. Merlin quickly shook his head.

"I don't know what's happened," he whispered. "I'll sort it out."

George didn't seem to have noticed anything was wrong. But he'd given George those lists, clearly headed each of them with either being foods Arthur could eat, or ones he couldn't. There was no chance of mistake. He glared at George, who was still serving Elena. When George turned away and went to get a jug of water, Merlin followed him.

"Why has Cook used the wrong list?" he demanded. "I labelled them. There was no way to mistake which was which."

George looked confused. "I know. I gave both lists to Edward. He wanted to approve them before they went to the kitchens."

Behind the king, Edward was watching them. When he saw Merlin looking, he very pointedly looked down at the food on the table, over at Arthur, then back at Merlin. And then he smiled.

Merlin didn't really care what Edward thought of him, but the idea of hurting Arthur, spoiling his chances like that was unforgiveable. George was still looking confused, and Merlin was willing to bet that he'd just been an innocent bystander in it all. But Edward obviously wanted his own protégé in Merlin's role, or just wanted Merlin out and replaced with someone more under Edward's control, and was seeking ways to make him look incompetent. He probably was responsible for the missing quill and paper as well.

He didn't want to leave Arthur with them, because who knew what they might do, but he had to get something that Arthur could eat.   Hurrying round to Gwen, he pulled her away from Morgana.

"This is the wrong menu. Can you look after Arthur whilst I fetch him something from the kitchens? Don't let him eat anything other than the bread until I'm back. Especially not the soup. Someone," and he glared at Edward as he said it. "Someone switched the menus around. I won't be long. You're the only one in here I trust to take care of him."

Gwen nodded, and Merlin took the opportunity to escape, signalling to an increasingly worried-looking Arthur that he wouldn't be long.

It had all been going far too well, and he should have known that they would hit a problem he thought as he raced down to the kitchen. Merlin was shocked at the fact that it was sabotage though. He would have expected better from Uther's servant. There would be no way to prove it, of course, but he had to at least try to salvage things.

The kitchen was busy and Cook glared at him when he came in.

"What is it? I told George that I didn't think those were foods the prince liked. They're ones you never, ever ask for. If you've played a joke..."

Merlin held his hands up defensively. "No joke. There were two lists. I think you've been given the wrong one. Can I see it?"

Cook waved towards the wall. His list was there, the top ripped off so that the part where he'd clearly labelled it as food to avoid was lost. No question then that it had been done deliberately. The only thing he could do was throw himself on Cook's mercy. He wasn't sure she actually had any.

"Can you make me a plate of food to take for Arthur?   Please?"

"Dinner's already gone up, we've finished cooking."

"He can't eat half those things. The princess Elena is up there, and her father. Arthur has to make a good impression, it's the only way to lift the enchantment. Please.   Edward's done this deliberately to make me look bad, but it's Arthur who's going to suffer."

Cook glared at him, and for a moment he thought she was going to refuse. Then she gave a heavy sigh, put down the dish she was cleaning, and picked up an empty plate.

"I can't stand that Edward. And as it's the prince..."

Merlin gave her a huge, grateful grin. "Thank you."

 

 

Morgana watched as Arthur's manservant stumbled into the room laden down with a heavy tray of food. Things had been growing progressively less comfortable since Merlin's absence. Arthur had refused all the food that George and Edward had pressed on him, accepting only a single hunk of fresh bread and a little cheese from Gwen.

Gwen had whispered to her what had happened, that somehow the requested foods had been mixed up. At first, she couldn't see why that would be a problem. And then she saw how Arthur was struggling a little to cut the cheese, saw the way his hands were shaking with the effort of doing something relatively delicate. Gwen had noticed too, and discretely sliced some cheese then offered him that. He kept glancing at the door, presumably wondering when Merlin would be back to help him.

She hadn't really seen this side of Arthur. Although she visited him regularly, it had been years since they'd sat down to eat together. Gwen had said something about Merlin changing Arthur's diet, but it hadn't really registered as to why. Any food that was liquid, or likely to slop everywhere, was difficult for him to manage alone. And the relief on Arthur's face when Merlin finally appeared was very obvious.

"Sorry," she heard Merlin whisper. "Cook obviously loves you a lot more than she loves me though. Look at all this!"

Arthur looked as if he were about to say something, then Merlin nudged him. Morgana didn't miss the quick shake of the head, nor that Arthur immediately glanced at the king to see if he had noticed the slip. She could remember Arthur as a young boy, wandering into the kitchens and sitting there hopefully until Cook sneaked him a tart or something. She had never managed to get the same affection from the woman and was more likely to be chased out of there, unless Arthur accompanied her. The favouritism obviously hadn't gone away. She wondered what Cook made of Arthur's virtual imprisonment. Doubtless she used every opportunity to still spoil him. Someone probably needed to.

Merlin was definitely not a polished manservant, but there was no question that he knew how to look after Arthur. The food was on the prince's plate in moments, more of it to one side. The meat had already been cut up, and then served in such a way that nobody would ever notice. And then he stood there right behind Arthur, ready to step in if the prince looked as if he needed any help at all. Once, he glanced up at Gwen and mouthed 'thank you', but it was a rare moment when his eyes were away from his charge. Uther did few things right as far as Morgana was concerned, but hiring that young man as Arthur's servant would be one of those things.

After that, she found it a very interesting meal. Elena was quite hopelessly inept, though curiously endearing with it. She was clumsy, managing to drop a fair amount of her meal either on the floor or in her lap. She spilled her drink, then knocked over Arthur's goblet in her flustered attempt to clear up. Merlin stepped forward for that as well while George dutifully mopped up the table, handing her a cloth for her dress that he presumably had hidden away in case Arthur needed it, and refilling the goblet. He did, Morgana noticed, move it well out of Elena's reach after that.

Merlin was fascinating. It took her a little while to notice that he held himself very still whenever Edward moved anywhere near him. Sometimes there would be a nervous little glance towards the senior servant, something almost mistrustful in it. He wouldn't make any attempt to serve food or wine when Edward was near. Whatever had gone wrong with the food, Morgana guessed that Merlin thought Edward had something to do with it. If she ever found that was the case then she wouldn't hesitate to let Uther know. Arthur was suffering enough without anyone taking out their petty jealousies over his manservant out on him.

Morgana had never been overly fond of Edward, who could be pompous and overbearing, and had been teaching George to be something similar. When she had been gifted her own wonderful maid, she had elected to teach Gwen herself. Gwen was all the better for it. Merlin, perhaps, could do with similar coaching, though he already seemed to understand what Arthur needed perfectly.

Uther and Godwyn were having a very tedious discussion about lands and battles and alliances. All kinds of things that made her want to tune out. Instead she watched Elena and Arthur, both struggling in their different ways. Without full control of the muscles in his face watching Arthur eat wasn't pleasant. No wonder Merlin was so careful about what was put in front of him. And Elena, possibly due to nerves, was dropping food everywhere. It was, she thought, almost a perfect match. But she worried for Elena in the long run. If Arthur was freed from the enchantment then there was no guarantee he would be pleased to have a wife who might embarrass him when he was king.  It was hard to tell, because nobody could actually understand what Arthur said. And anything written down would be studied, considered. It wasn't as direct and from the heart as free speech.

Elena was obviously struggling to lead the conversation, such as it was. Morgana caught snatches of talk of her horses, which ones were her favourites and small stories of their exploits. It was something that obviously interested her, and probably sat better with Arthur than any talk of embroidery and dresses and whatever else he would have been subjected to with a more conventional princess. He was listening attentively, and occasionally writing something. Once, she saw him drop the quill and both he and Merlin dived for it. She was sure she heard him forget and try to speak, but it was difficult to tell over Uther's loud conversation. However, when Merlin handed the quill back to him he was nodding at something, and a moment later she heard him very politely tell Elena that the prince often rode with his knights on patrol in the morning and that Arthur thought that perhaps she would like to join them?

It was curious that this appeared to be exactly what Arthur wanted him to say to her, and that there had been no attempt at all on Arthur's part to write this down for Merlin that Morgana could see. Morgana continued to watch them, her interest raised.   She thought that she might investigate it further, because there was something just a little bit too comfortable about it. Almost as if Merlin really did understand him.

 

 

"That went well!"

Merlin smiled as Arthur hurried up the stairs ahead of him, almost bouncing with happiness as he reached the top step and entered his rooms. The dinner with Elena had indeed gone far better than either of them could have hoped for. There would be no early morning patrol with her - although Elena had been keen enough to go along, her father had put his foot down. Instead there was to be a more dignified ride later in the day, which Uther and Godwyn were both going to accompany them on. Merlin would have to find Leon and let him know of the change of plans. The knights would also have to clear the courtyard in the middle of the day, which wouldn't be easy but Merlin was confident that they would manage.

"Princess Elena is everything Lancelot claimed," Merlin agreed.

"She's a sweet girl. Rather unorthodox, but then I suppose I am as well. Did you see? She didn't scream. She didn't even flinch."

"She's a good choice."

"Wonderful. And she likes riding. That's lucky, one thing I can actually still do." Arthur pushed open the door to his bedchamber, then stopped. "Oh, Merlin. When you speak to Leon, can you ask him not to include Gwaine tomorrow?"

Merlin frowned. "Why not? Gwaine's been great."

"I know. It's just... everyone loves Gwaine and..." He sighed, then gestured down at himself. "I'm not going to stand up well to competition, am I?"

Merlin wanted to tell Arthur that was ridiculous, that he could stand up to any competition in the world. But not everyone saw as Merlin did, and he realised, sadly, Arthur probably had a point. He followed Arthur inside and closed the door. "I could speak to him... he's just a flirt. He'll stop if he realises it's making you uncomfortable. He wants you free of this as much as the rest of us. Don't push him away. I'll go and see him."

Somehow, that didn't seem to pacify Arthur at all. "He'll just flirt with you as well, like he always does. I don't think you going to see him alone is a good idea. He could take advantage."

Merlin laughed at that. Partly because the idea of Gwaine taking advantage wasn't at all unpleasant, but mostly because Arthur clearly didn't think he could take care of himself.

Arthur glared at him. "It isn't funny. You're a country boy, you have no idea how some knights treat servants. And they talk. Once you've given in to one of them you'll have others sniffing around, because once they've had what they want from you they won't be interested any more, and they'll tell the others about you. Then you'll be known as someone available. And you're my manservant. You can't be... You're not to acquire that kind of reputation for yourself. You should keep away from Gwaine."

"Don't worry about me, Arthur. I can handle Gwaine. And any other knights." Arthur had sat down on the edge of his bed, and Merlin knelt at his feet so that he could remove Arthur's boots more easily. "Flirting's like breathing to Gwaine. He doesn't mean anything by it."

"You don't know..."

"Arthur." Merlin stopped unlacing his boot and looked up at him. "Ealdor was a very boring little village. There wasn't a lot to do. You start very early out there."

Arthur looked briefly startled, then hid it. "You mean that's why you came here? You left a herd of magical, big-eared bastards behind and made a run for it?"

"I'd like to see Will produce one. That would be amazing magic! And the look on his face would be priceless. But no, unless men have started being able to get pregnant there's nothing like that. I came here to serve an annoying prince and breathe in the hideous aroma of his stinking feet!"

Arthur kicked him, but very gently, with his freed foot. "Will... that's your friend from your village. You've mentioned him before. You didn't mention you were sleeping with him."

Merlin sighed, and started on the other boot. Arthur had got quite warm with all the walking around and the stress of the meal, and his feet really were quite smelly. "You need a bath. And, although it's none of your business, Will and I were just experimenting. Don't tell me you haven't experimented, because I've already heard differently from the other servants."

"Did you experiment a lot?"

Merlin shrugged, tossing the boot aside. "Enough. Like I said, there wasn't a lot to do out there. And if the rumours are true then I didn't experiment half as much as you have. Those poor serving girls. It's a wonder there aren't dozens of golden-haired pouty-lipped bastards running around Camelot now!"

"It wasn't all girls," Arthur said quietly.

Merlin paused, feeling Arthur's eyes on him. When he looked up, the prince was gazing at him, his expression unreadable. The trouble was, what Merlin saw was the real Arthur, under the enchantment. And the real Arthur was very, very beautiful. He swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling very dry.

"Serving boys then? Ones who had given themselves up to a knight?" He tried to make it sound light, but he stumbled over the last word.

"The knight back then was me. That's why I know what Gwaine will do. Just be careful, Merlin. You're more than them. You're not here to be rolled in someone's bed one night and then cast aside. I need you. You're not for Gwaine."

"No," Merlin agreed quietly. "I'm yours."

He waited to see how Arthur would react, whether he would take up the implicit offer in Merlin's words, and just for a moment Arthur looked at him and Merlin thought that he actually would. But then Arthur just gave a single, satisfied nod and stood up, turning around so that Merlin could help him off with his cloak.

"Just remember that, Merlin."

So close to the man who was fast becoming his main reason for existing, Merlin knew he was hardly likely to forget it.

 

 

At first, the ride went very well.

Gwaine had come up with what even Arthur had to admit was a brilliant idea. They all went on patrol as usual, and then it appeared ever so casual when Uther, Morgana, Elena and Godwyn joined them later in the morning. There was no need for their guests to see the lengths they went to in order to hide Arthur from the castle gossips. And as had already been proved, Arthur rode as well if not better than any of them.

The first problem was communication. Sitting at a dinner table with pen and quill to hand, the conversation had been painfully slow but at least it had happened. With Arthur seated up on a horse there was little chance for that to happen. So he rode in silence, whilst the others conversed amongst themselves.

The second problem was Sir Kay. He had accompanied the king, because the king couldn't be seen to be riding out without any sort of protection. And whilst Uther looked genuinely pleased to see Arthur riding as well as he ever had, Kay had narrowed his eyes and settled in behind the prince. He couldn't do anything, not with the king and Arthur's loyal knights right there, but just having him around obviously unsettled Arthur. He kept looking back to check where Kay was. And every time he did it, Kay smirked.

Merlin watched him, slowly fuming.

"Wake up!" Gwaine hissed as Merlin's horse started to veer off course, reacting to the lack of control from its rider.

Merlin straightened, and fell in beside the knight. "He's making Arthur nervous."

"You say _I_ make him nervous!" Gwaine quipped. "I've been on my best behaviour, you notice."

"Shh! No, Kay doesn't like Arthur. If he tries anything now..."

"He won't. And we'll sort him out if he does." Gwaine nodded towards the princess. "The bigger worry is the fact he can't answer her."

Elena, evidently, had noticed the way Arthur kept twisting in his seat. "Is everything all right?"

Of course, Arthur couldn't answer.

Uther and Godwyn were riding further ahead, still lost in conversation like the old friends that they were. They weren't paying a lot of attention to the other riders. Kay seemed to notice this and took it as his cue to move alongside Arthur, pushing between him and Elena. Merlin saw Arthur stiffen, instantly wary, and urged his own horse forwards. There wasn't room for four of them to ride side by side, so he rode behind, as close as he could.

"Our prince isn't much of a conversationalist," Kay told Elena. "I'm sure a lovely lady such as yourself must find that difficult. You must have handsome men falling over themselves to sweep you off your feet all the time."

Elena blushed, and looked down at her hands. Merlin guessed that the opposite was quite true, and that she had no idea how to handle Kay's compliments. "I'm rather partial to quiet," she ventured. "I'm not good at conversation myself."

Merlin thought that perhaps he loved her a little bit for that. Kay looked a little taken aback, but it didn't sway him.

"I find that hard to believe. Gawant must be in mourning for the loss of their brightest jewel."

Elena said nothing, just stared straight ahead. Merlin realised that she probably thought Kay was mocking her, although to anyone who knew the situation it was clear he was taunting Arthur. His next words just confirmed that.

"I wonder what your people will think when you return with your new husband?" Kay pondered. Elena flashed a glance at him, then went back to staring straight ahead. "Our prince is a little unusual, isn't he? In Camelot, he stays hidden away in the tower, the people don't see him."

Merlin could see Arthur tensing up, and suddenly realised what Kay was trying to do. If Arthur retaliated, all the work they'd put into ensuring Elena and Godwyn didn't hear him speak would be for nothing. He had to something.

"Kay!"

The knight turned to look at Merlin sharply. "That's _Sir_ Kay to you, boy. Remember it or you'll be in the stocks before sundown."

"The king won't want you interfering in this."

Kay whirled his horse around and was right in Merlin's face in a heartbeat. "Are you daring to tell me what to do, serving boy?"

"I just..." Merlin got no further, Kay slapped him hard across the face for his continued insolence, and never the best horseman, Merlin toppled onto the ground. It hurt, and he knew he was going to carry the bruises for days. And in the end, it had the exact effect that he was hoping to avoid.

Arthur and Gwaine both went for Kay, but Arthur got there first.

"Don't touch my servant!"

Arthur had grown since his last encounter with Kay, and recent workouts with the knights had proved him to be stronger than most despite his handicaps. He shoved Kay out of the saddle, but the knight grabbed hold of him and they both went down. They rolled together, shouting and fighting and generally hurting each other in any way that they could. Gwaine tried to get between them but nearly got a black eye in the process, and only when Lancelot and Leon waded in as well did they manage to separate the pair. Elena was staring at them all in horror, chewing at her thumbnail nervously.

"Arthur!" There was no mistaking the anger in the king's voice. "What on earth do you think you're doing?"

"Kay provoked him!" Merlin exclaimed. "He did!"

"Be quiet!" the king looked around. "Sir Kay, what happened?"

"I don't know. I was just talking to the princess, trying to be polite. Prince Arthur pushed me off my horse and started hitting me. I think perhaps he thought I was a threat to him. He wouldn't stop. He's... Are we sure he's not dangerous, Sire? I don't like to ask, but I did nothing to provoke him. Actually, I think it was that servant of his, egging him on."

"Merlin did nothing," Gwaine put in. "Kay was deliberately goading Arthur, and then he attacked Merlin."

"That's not true, the stupid boy slid off his horse. He's a dire rider, anyone can see that. And Gwaine would say that. With me out of the way there would be a spot open for a senior knight. Probably fancies himself in that role." Kay glared at them all, daring someone to say it wasn't so.

Leon and Lancelot had been ahead of them so hadn't seen what had taken place. But there was one other witness.

"Actually, Sir Gwaine is telling the truth," Elena said quietly, biting her lip. "Whilst Sir Kay was being very gallant towards me, he was also being quite unkind to Arthur. I think that if I was Arthur then I would have wanted to hit him too."

Uther looked at them all. "We'll deal with this later. I think we've ridden long enough for one day. Arthur, ride back with me." He looked to Lord Godwyn. "Apologies for this, old friend. We were young once, you know what a pretty face can do to a man."

Elena blushed again. Her father regarded Arthur with more than a little concern. "Elena," he said softly. "You ride with me now."

And that was the end of the courtship of Princess Elena.

Lord Godwyn and his daughter left Camelot the following day. It had been the fighting more than anything that had turned Godwyn against the idea of a wedding. His daughter was a gentle girl whom he loved very much, and the spectacle of the Pendragon heir brawling with one of the knights in a quite uncontrolled fashion, made to look far worse by his deformity, had given him more than slight concern. Coupled with the odd noises that Arthur made when he tried to speak, it left him determined to remove his daughter as soon as possible. Elena herself had been more forgiving, but in the end she went along with her father's wishes without too much apparent regret.

The only bright spot from it was that as Gwaine, Elena and, when he had paper to hand, Arthur all told the same story about what Kay had done, there was no question as to Kay's guilt. Uther was reluctant to banish him lest he spread stories about Arthur's condition, but he was kept far from the prince from that day onwards.

For a while, it looked as if that would be the end of it, and that Arthur wouldn't be subjected to any more potential brides. Uther, however, hadn't given up yet.

 

 

Morgana had been intrigued by Arthur's servant ever since the dinner with Elena. There was something about him, something about his relationship with Arthur that wasn't quite right. Or, perhaps more accurately, something that was completely and utterly right. They complemented each other in a way that Arthur and a servant never ever should, because Arthur had always been far too full of himself to ever lower himself to get to know a servant. Half the time he hadn't even learned the names of the ones he encountered whilst growing up. Merlin was different. Arthur looked almost lost when he wasn't there. It could just be that Arthur spent more time with him than anyone else, but Morgana wasn't convinced. There had been something else.

So she spent more time with Arthur. She would arrive unexpectedly at the library when she knew they were there, and offered to help with the search. Arthur would, she noticed, go quiet even though she was sure he'd been talking when she walked in. He always sat facing the door, so she could never be sure. The paper he used for communication was always, unfailingly blank until she arrived, and then suddenly there would be notes. She was convinced that she knew what was happening, it was just a matter of proving it.

Morgana wanted Arthur to be cured more than anyone.   She had dreams, horrible, frightening ones which had become quite terrifying recently as she'd watched events unfold in front of her that she had already dreamt. Gaius had increased her sleeping drafts, and looked at her in concern. He certainly knew as well as she did that it was something terrible, something banned and likely to get her executed or banished if Uther found out. But that wasn't her main reason for wanting Arthur cured.

Nearly two years after Arthur's enchantment, when it was clear Arthur wasn't going to be freed any time soon, Uther had called her to him. What he'd told her, as kindly and gently as a man like Uther could ever tell anyone anything, had shocked her to her core. She'd cried, she'd raged at him, she'd locked herself in her room without even allowing Gwen in for days. And then, slowly, she'd accepted it. He had at least had the decency to tell her himself that she was his bastard daughter, that the man she'd loved as her father was no such thing. He'd acknowledged her, wished to do so publically, and then whilst Arthur was still his heir, Morgana would be next in line. It had taken weeks for her to agree, and longer for her to accept it. She wasn't sure she would ever completely forgive him.

Queen wasn't a role she wanted. Queens were expected to take a strong husband, and she'd had a particularly horrific vision of herself in a crown, being handfasted to Arthur's uncle Agravaine. It wasn't something she ever wanted to come to pass and she would fight it with her last breath. But that was another battle for another day, and would keep presumably until the day that Uther decided he couldn't wait any longer to name an heir who could actually rule.

A few weeks after Elena's visit, Morgana stood in the doorway of her brother's room, watching him as he tried to play a game of checkers with Merlin. She had crept up the stairs and they hadn't noticed her. Someone, Merlin probably, had made larger counters, a larger board. Arthur still managed to knock them everywhere at every turn, but the servant patiently put the pieces back in place. Arthur made that noise, that horrible croaking noise and Merlin had the temerity to actually laugh at him for it.

Morgana was about to berate the boy for it, after all the spell was cruel enough without people making fun of him but then she noticed Arthur's reaction. It was difficult to tell, but he seemed to be laughing too.

"Yes it was, I never cheat!" Merlin protested.

Arthur croaked something again and poked at one of the pieces.   Merlin pursed his lips, picked up the piece and moved it to a different square.

"Happy now? It wasn't there."

Again there was the croaking noise.   Arthur pushed one of the pieces across the board, then sat back. Despite his misshapen form, that pose was still Arthur, just as she had known him whilst they were growing up together - smug and self-satisfied.

"You cheated," Merlin protested.

Whatever Arthur replied was lost on Morgana, but she could hear now a slight difference in the tone of it. It was almost cocky, and she felt a rush of fondness for him. But there was concern too. Just as she'd suspected, there was absolutely no doubt that the pair of them were having a conversation. They were so used to doing so that they weren't even bothering to be careful any more. She could be anyone, and there was only one reason why the servant could possibly have the ability to understand Arthur.

"Well I've never seen any evidence that princes don't cheat. In fact..."

"I knew it! You understand him!" Morgana exclaimed.   She closed the door behind her and strode across the room, noting Merlin's horror-struck expression. Arthur didn't look happy either, and for once she knew it wasn't just a result of his condition.

"We've learned with... signs... gestures," Merlin stuttered. Arthur was saying something too, and the servant glanced at him worriedly before adding, "I don't actually understand what he says."

"I know what I just saw. You fool, I could have been anyone!" She grabbed him by the upper arms and gave him a little shake. "What's the matter with you? Do you not know what Uther does to sorcerers? Haven't you _seen_?"

"Tell her you're not stupid. Oh wait, you are, aren't you?"

Morgana froze. That was Arthur's voice. "What?"

"Well go on, tell her."

It sounded like Arthur. It sounded exactly like Arthur. And Merlin's lips weren't moving. If anything he looked as shocked as she did, most likely because of the startled expression on her face. Or perhaps just because she was gripping him quite tightly.

"Arthur?" She looked around, not letting go of Merlin yet because that was the key, that had to be the key. She had never heard Arthur before, after all. Even moments earlier, standing in the doorway, it had been that same, awful croaking noise.

Arthur just looked at her blankly. Obviously, because he wouldn't suddenly become any more intuitive than he ever had been before.

"Say something," she hissed. "Anything."

"Well... what do you want me to say?"

"I can hear you," she breathed. "Oh gods, I can understand what you're saying Arthur! After all this time!"

She flung her arms round him, the fondness from earlier rushing back to her tenfold. She knew she was crying, but right then she didn't care. "I can hear you..."

Whatever Arthur said to that, she didn't understand at all because she'd let go of Merlin. Merlin, who was standing beside them fidgeting uncomfortably. She grabbed his arm, not letting go of Arthur.

"Say that again."

"You're suffocating me!"

Morgana just laughed, kissed him on the forehead, then for good measure kissed Merlin on the forehead too. The servant blushed and looked even more awkward, so she did it again, laughing more.

"I can understand you!"

Arthur looked wary. "Really?"

"Really!" She looked at Merlin. "It's when I touch you, I can understand... it's as if you translate for me. Can you do it for anyone?"

Merlin looked as surprised as Arthur. "I don't know... I didn't know I could do that."

"Well you can. This is wonderful. Arthur, do you know what this means?"

"It means you're going to start answering me back every time I insult you?"

Morgana ignored that. "It means, if we can find a princess who doesn't hate magic then we can tell her, she can sit with you, get to know you..."

"Which should kill any romance dead." Merlin pointed out. "Have you ever tried getting to know him? He's possibly the most arrogant, pig-headed..."

"Merlin..." Arthur growled warningly. "I could still report you to father, you know?" He wriggled a little, trying to get out of Morgana's embrace. "This is great, but we're not telling anyone. I'm not risking Merlin's life like that. Or yours for that matter. What if he decides you can understand because you're magic too?"

Morgana did let go of him then, because that was a possibility she'd not yet considered. She couldn't afford to have anyone investigating that aspect of her. And although Arthur had no idea, he might have stumbled across the truth. A truth she knew he would be able to accept.

"I am," she whispered. "I'm sure of it. My dreams... they're not just dreams Arthur." She looked at Merlin who was looking back at her with sympathy. No surprise at all. "You knew."

He nodded. "I couldn't... Gaius didn't want me to say anything. He thought it was safer for you if you just thought they were dreams. I'm sorry. I wanted to."

"I thought I was going mad." She had an urge to fly at him, slap him for leaving her alone with her fears when he could have let her know she wasn't alone at all. And Gaius was even worse. "Who else knew?"

"Nobody. I only knew because I can sense it on you. Can't you, on me?"

"Well of course I can't, or I would have realised long before." She was going to sit Merlin down and have a long, long talk with him, very soon. Gaius too. She had a thousand questions and her eagerness to have them answered was already outweighing her anger at them leaving her in the dark.

"So is it just the two of you, or can anyone touch Merlin and understand me?" Arthur asked. They all had their different priorities, that much was clear. She couldn't blame Arthur for his.

"One easy way to find out!" she told them. "One of your knights, the ones you trust. Ask them. Or I could get Gwen."

There was, as it happened, no need to summon anyone as Sir Leon arrived for his daily visit just a few moments later. Morgana smiled at him, amused at the way it obviously disconcerted him.

"Just the man we need."

Merlin looked a little concerned. "Perhaps one of the others."

"Nonsense, Leon has always been Arthur's great friend. Leon, come here, take Merlin's hand."

Leon looked ever more confused. "His hand?"

"Or his foot, or just the top of his head. Whatever you like. Just touch him."

"My lady, I'm not sure what..."

"Morgana, leave Leon out of this," Arthur begged her. "Get Lancelot instead. Or Gwen. Gwen would be much better."

But Morgana wasn't to be thwarted. And, she reflected, they really did need to close and lock that door. She grabbed Leon's hand, dragged him over to Merlin and put his hand over the servant's, smacking Merlin when he tried to pull away.

"Morgana!" Arthur growled.

Leon gasped and let go of Merlin immediately, his eyes wide with horror. And that was enough for Morgana. It wasn't just her, it was anyone. Unless Leon was a wizard, but that seemed unlikely given the horrified look on his face. For a moment she thought he was going to leave, he turned on his heel and went for the door, ignoring the protests and Arthur scrambling after him.

But Leon stopped and closed the door, locked and barred it, and then went back to Merlin, taking his hand again.

"This is useful, and you know I'd do anything to help you, Arthur. But just so you all know," he told them stiffly. "I hate it."

As if they'd had any doubt.

"I hate it too," Morgana told him. And then, because she was sure Sir Leon was the most loyal and trustworthy of the knights, and because she'd already staked Merlin's life on that fact, she added her own admission. "I live in constant fear that I'll be discovered."

If there had been anything amusing at all about their situation, it would probably have been the look of confusion on Leon's face.

"As I also have magic."

Leon paled.

 

 

The third princess was to be Mithian after all. Despite Uther's concerns that a sensible woman would be unwilling to lower herself to take the poor husband material that Arthur had become, King Rodor had been keen to ally with Camelot, and soon enough Mithian and her entourage were on their way.

Arthur, Merlin noticed, was in one of his grumpier moods that morning when Merlin arrived with his breakfast, closely followed by Leon.

"I don't see why Father can't just admit defeat over this," he complained, poking at the food with his knife. "It won't work. Morgana can be queen, I'll ride and fight with the knights and eventually people will forget there was ever a prince. Putting us all through this over and over again is pointless."

"The Princess Morgana has an excellent idea," Leon put in. "She is friendly with Princess Mithian, and thinks she would be open to the use of magic to communicate."

He had got over his aversion to using Merlin's magic extremely fast once he realised just how easy it was to have a conversation with Arthur now. Or, possibly, it had more to do with Morgana's admission that she also had magic. Whatever had happened to make the change, Leon was now almost as strong an advocate for the lifting of the ban on magic as Arthur was. Merlin, for his part, was starting to get used to the small trusted group of friends putting their hand on some part of his body in order to access that magic. Most of them just touched his hand or his arm or, as in this case, his shoulder whilst Merlin was stoking the fire. Gwaine, of course, slapped him on the arse and then left his hand right there, so the first thing he ever heard from Arthur was a reprimand. It stopped him. Mostly.

"Out of the question," Arthur snapped, and bit into an apple.

"But it's a good idea," Merlin protested, Leon nodding vigorously beside him, though whether that was in support of Merlin or Morgana, Merlin wasn't sure.

Arthur glared at the pair of them. "No. We don't know her. I'm not risking you. Only a trusted few know you can do this, and I'm keeping it that way."

Gwaine would probably be relieved that he fell into that category, Merlin thought. But he wasn't giving up. It was the only way Arthur would ever be free of the curse.

"Morgana trusts her," Leon pointed out.

"Really?" Arthur looked fairly sceptical. "Has she told her about her own magic then?"

"I... don't know," Leon admitted.

"Which answers the question. We're not risking it."

And try as they might, they couldn't change Arthur's mind.

For Merlin, Mithian's pending arrival raised other problems. The feast with Elena had gone well, and Uther intended replicating it. This time Merlin made sure that the kitchens got the correct information regarding the food so at least that was one less concern. But he still had to wait at table, and Gwen had constantly been covering up his mistakes the last time. There was no point in asking George or Edward, as he suspected that they were deliberately confusing him, and in Edward's case probably feeding him incorrect information so that he would fail.

Morgana, who now visited Arthur several times a day and spent most of that time talking to Merlin about magic, of course had an idea. Merlin was starting to get as apprehensive as Arthur was over Morgana's ideas.

"We should have a feast of our own," she declared. "Up here, where Uther will never find us. Merlin can wait on us all, and we can help him become the best manservant possible. It will be wonderful, and great fun!"

It was a horrible idea, Merlin thought, and not at all fun. Unfortunately, he was the only one who thought that and everyone else seemed to be getting rather excited at the prospect. Morgana stooped to low and underhand methods to get what she wanted, telling Gwen that she would need to play the part of a visiting princess, and Gaius that he would be highly suitable as a visiting king. She also, Merlin found out later, told him to be as obstinate and difficult as possible. It was terribly unfair that someone who was supposed to be completely on Merlin's side should be walking around with a far too satisfied smirk on his face. And Arthur, the traitor, thought the whole thing was hilarious.

"It's for your own good," Arthur told him, slapping him on the back and nearly sending him flying. "I don't want Father sacking you because he thinks you're incapable of serving me!"

Merlin just glared at him, laden down with tableware that all had to be carried up the huge flight of stairs to Arthur's tower. Indeed, the table itself had needed to be carried up there, but luckily Percival was built like an ox and took pity on Merlin after watching him struggle with an impossible task.

George appeared at one point, and they were nearly found out, but Gwen managed to convince him that they were merely rearranging Arthur's quarters and did he want to help because Merlin was going to be struggling up those stairs with some new chairs shortly and would be delighted if there were kind souls willing to take some for him.

George made an excuse and left fairly quickly. Percival took the chairs up two at a time, with Morgana and Gwen quite openly watching admiringly as he did so. It was, Merlin thought, probably just as well that Leon and Lancelot weren't around to see. They would probably end up trying to carry three each and put their backs out for a month.

To make matters worse, Arthur had found Merlin a costume.

Arthur claimed that it wasn't a costume, it was an official servant's uniform, but Merlin had never seen anyone wearing it.   It wasn't too bad, a red tunic with the Pendragon crest emblazoned across it. Then Arthur produced a ridiculous hat with a large plume of feathers in the top, and Merlin knew for sure that he'd asked the girls to find something, and presumably taken the trouble to write it down as he certainly hadn't said anything of the sort when Merlin had been acting as translator.

Arthur could be quite an annoying prat when he wanted to be.

"But it's the official uniform," Arthur assured him when Merlin refused to wear it. "You need to get used to wearing it."

"I've never seen any of the other staff wearing anything like it. Ever."

Gwen chose that moment to arrive with yet more things for the table that Merlin knew he'd never remember what to do with. Arthur waved her over, and gave a pinching gesture with his hand near to Merlin's arm.

"What's _that_?" Merlin protested. "Are you telling her to hurt...? Oh! That means grab hold of Merlin, I want to talk to you, doesn't it?"

Arthur looked far too pleased with himself. Suddenly being able to talk to his friends again seemed to have raised his confidence enormously. Merlin wasn't entirely sure that he liked the change.

"It's an excellent way of letting people know. Also it might train Gwaine into touching your arm instead of the inappropriate grabbing he was doing yesterday."

Gwen, having obviously been raised to have far better manners than Arthur, held out her hand politely for Merlin to take.   She and Lancelot were the only ones who did that. Gaius was still angry with Merlin for letting so many people know about his magic and so he had taken to grabbing Merlin by the ear and hauling him over to Arthur like a naughty child whenever he wanted to speak to the prince.

"Guinevere, would you tell my useless servant that this is indeed the official livery of a Camelot servant, and that although it's rarely seen you never know when my father might decide we should be using it again."

"This is true," Gwen confirmed.

"I've never seen you wearing it," Merlin pointed out suspiciously.

"It's only for male servants." She glanced at Arthur with a small smile, then reached over and took the hat, placing it firmly on Merlin's head. "It looks lovely!"

Gwen, evidently, wasn't the friend he'd thought she was.

The dinner itself, of course, was just horrible.

Or, more precisely, it was horrible for Merlin. Everyone else seemed to be having a wonderful time, and it largely seemed to be at his expense. Morgana had dressed Gwen up in one of her gowns, and the pair of them had been escorted to their seats by Gaius. Gaius was enjoying being fake king _far_ too much. He sat at the head of the table and found fault with absolutely everything Merlin served up, getting progressively worse once he discovered how much it entertained the others. The knights were no better. Percival's plate would empty so fast that Merlin started to wonder if the muscular knight had magic. Leon took the role of tutor far too seriously and corrected every tiny little slip, which might have been the point of the exercise but combined with Gaius (and Arthur, whose natural tendency was to complain about everything Merlin did anyway) it was a bit much.

Twice Gwen tried to get up and help him, but Gaius insisted he needed to learn. The raised eyebrow and pointed look he gave left Merlin in no doubt what it was he was supposed to learn. Gaius had been so angry when he found out that others had discovered Merlin's secret that for a moment or two he'd been unable to speak. Unfortunately for Merlin, that state hadn't lasted long. He knew it was because the man loved him like a son, and was afraid for him, but that didn't make the lengthy lecture on his stupidity any easier to bear. Gaius probably thought attending the feast would be akin to a beating. Merlin wasn't sure that he was wrong.

The other problem was that they all kept grabbing hold of him so that they could talk to Arthur. Most of them were gentle about it, but it still kept knocking him off-balance. A number of the spillages were purely down to that. Percival in particular didn't seem to know his own strength, whilst Gwaine...

Gwaine definitely pawed him every single time. And as the evening wore on, and Gwaine got progressively more drunk, he also got more handsy.

"It's something else you'll need to learn to contend with," Gwaine insisted when Merlin told him to stop. Arthur was glaring at him, but Gwaine was too intoxicated to care. "You'll have frisky lords molesting you and pulling you down like this..."

One quick yank and Merlin found himself sitting in Gwaine's lap. Most of the table seemed to find it hilarious, but Arthur didn't laugh until Merlin reached over, took Gwaine's tankard of ale, and tipped it over the knight's head. Then he laughed louder and harder than any of them.

"That should cool you down," he noted, escaping from Gwaine's clutches whilst the knight spluttered and pretended to be outraged.

"The stocks for you my boy!" Gwaine squawked in what was presumably supposed to be an impression of the king. But he was laughing too, and just winked at Merlin when the servant leaned over to refill the tankard. "Feisty! That won't keep them off, you know?"

"It's kept you off," Merlin pointed out, and hurried away quickly to refill the tankard Arthur was holding out. It wasn't that he would have particularly objected to Gwaine's completely unsubtle advances, he liked Gwaine a lot, but Arthur had made it clear how little he approved. And Arthur was what mattered above all things to Merlin. He would do anything to keep him happy and laughing like that.

Eventually Arthur declared that Merlin had surely learned enough for one evening, and let him sit with the rest of them. Soon enough everyone moved until they were all gathered around him, giving Arthur the first opportunity in years to join in a group conversation. Merlin didn't think he'd ever seen Arthur look so happy, so relaxed. They talked about castle gossip, about things the knights had done, about Mithian and whether or not any of them thought she could be trusted with Merlin's secret.

"We should do this regularly," Morgana declared, then catching Merlin's groan of despair over all the extra work heading his way, she added that she only meant the group talking.

She stayed back when the others took their leave, and was still in the room they'd used for the feast when Merlin returned from the kitchens. Arthur had vanished, and Merlin guessed he'd gone through to his bedchamber. He'd looked tired towards the end.

"Gwen's gone to prepare your rooms, my lady," he explained, assuming she was expecting to see her maid come back.

Morgana smiled at him fondly. "You did very well this evening, Merlin. Your serving skills are still mediocre at best, but you'll get by. Just don't spill anything on visiting guests. But your other skills... what you did for all of us, and for Arthur..." She reached forward and hugged him. "Thank you for giving me my brother back," she whispered. And although she turned away quickly and left, he could see tears welling up.

Smiling to himself at the unexpected praise, Merlin closed the door gently behind her, and went in search of Arthur. He didn't have to look far. As he'd expected, the prince was in his bedchamber, sprawled across the bed, fast asleep. He was still fully clothed, as if he'd just collapsed there, exhausted. Merlin tried not to feel worried by the fact that Arthur seemed to be getting tired more easily these days. It was probably just the excitement of all the changes - the riding, the feast, being able to talk to people again. No wonder he was worn out.

Arthur didn't stir when Merlin removed his boots and covered him with a blanket, which said a lot about how tired he must have been. But he was smiling in his sleep, and that had to be a good thing.

Merlin left him be, and headed down to his room, hoping that Gaius would be asleep too.

 

 

In the days that followed, Morgana joined Merlin and Arthur down in the library. In theory she was helping with their research. In practice she spent most of the time sitting with Merlin, asking him questions in hushed tones about every book she opened.

Arthur knew that he should appreciate the extra help, but it seemed to him that Morgana was asking more about her own fledgling magic abilities, and less about finding a cure for Arthur. He pointed this out on the second afternoon. Both of them had turned to look at him. Morgana looked quite hurt, and Merlin... Well, Merlin had looked annoyed. They'd all gone back to the books after that, quietly reading and working. Merlin hadn't said anything about it until the evening, when he was helping Arthur with his bath.

"Morgana has never had anyone to talk to about her visions, you know?" Merlin told him gently as he pulled Arthur's boots off.

Arthur sat on the edge of his bed. He was quite tired again, the riding that morning had taken it out of him, and wasn't really in the mood for the conversation that he suspected was coming. A long soak in the wonderfully warm baths Merlin drew for him was all he wanted, followed by a good night's sleep ready for another patrol in the morning.

"In some ways, she's just as alone as you were before I came along," Merlin continued.   "She couldn't talk to anyone either. You know what your father does to anyone with magic. We've seen it, both of us."

They had. After the first time, Arthur had tried to distract Merlin, to find something that kept him far from the window. He could still recall how pale and drawn Merlin had looked when he gazed down into the courtyard below and watched what happened to the man the king had captured. The screaming had been terrible, and seemed to go on for a long, long time. And there had been the smoke, the smell, lingering in the air for what seemed like days afterwards. It was what made the revelation of Merlin and Morgana's magic to the knights so very, very dangerous, and why Gaius was still angry with Merlin days later. It was an anger born of protective love. Gaius, like Arthur, had seen many people killed that way over the years. Arthur was only just beginning to understand how very terrible it was but for Gaius, Merlin and Morgana it had to be horrific. The thought of Merlin or Morgana sentenced to die like that...

"I'm sorry."

Merlin raised an eyebrow, and Arthur knew exactly where he'd learned _that_ from. "It's not me you should be saying that to."

"I'll tell her."

Merlin nodded. "I think she'd like that. She really does want to find a way to help you, you know? It's just suddenly having someone to talk to about it, being allowed to look at those spell books... she just has so many questions. I want to help her."

Arthur stood up, raising his arms so that Merlin could help remove his overshirt. "Would you want to if she wasn't so beautiful?" He knew it was wrong even as it came out of his mouth, and he felt Merlin freeze for a moment, then yank the shirt off with more force than usual.

"Yes, Arthur, I _would_." He dropped the shirt on the floor, then went over to the bath. Immediately steam started to rise from it. Arthur didn't need to see his face to know that his eyes would be glowing gold. He could die just for drawing Arthur the perfect bath. "Honestly, first Gwaine, now Morgana. If I didn't know better I'd think you were jealous!"

And that stung, which he probably deserved. Because it was true, to a certain extent. He was used to having Merlin to himself, and now there were a group of knights, and Morgana, all making demands on his time, on his magic which up until then had been Merlin and Arthur's secret to keep. The fact that they'd done a poor job of it was beside the point. He had liked having that quietly between them, dangerous and all theirs. Gaius had known too, of course, but that didn't count.

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin. You're not some girl."

Merlin just stood there, scowling at him.

Arthur struggled out of the rest of his clothes himself. Merlin had to help him into the bath, not blushing as much as he sometimes did, supporting Arthur more firmly than was usual. The water was perfectly warm and faintly scented of lavender which Merlin always claimed would help him sleep, but which was probably going to earn him teasing from his knights now that they knew he was able to verbally fight back. He leaned forward so that Merlin could begin washing him, starting with his back and shoulders. It was relaxing, despite their disagreement, and after a few moments he felt his eyes drifting closed.   And then, suddenly he was coughing and spluttering, water everywhere.

"Arthur!" Merlin's worry was evident in his face.

"What happened?"

"You just suddenly slumped forward in the water and went under! I think you fell asleep." He grabbed a dry cloth and wiped Arthur's face with it. "That's enough bathing. You should get out."

Arthur did feel even more tired, though that was probably down to the heat of the water and the relaxing wash he'd been getting. He was too tired to argue that he just wanted to sit there. Instead, he let Merlin help him out of the bath and just stood there whilst his servant dried him off and flung a nightshirt over him. Again it was far more efficient than Merlin's normal behaviour with none of the usual embarrassment and bumbling.

"Bed."

"You're very bossy," Arthur grumbled, but his eyelids were drooping again and he complied.

"I'm going to tell Leon you're not available for patrol tomorrow," Merlin announced, which did nothing to dispel Arthur's conviction about the bossiness though he was tired enough that he didn't want to argue. "You need a rest before the princess gets here."

Arthur had temporarily forgotten about Mithian. One more thing to dread. He let Merlin cover him with the sheets, and closed his eyes.

He was asleep in moments.

  


 

"I'm worried about Arthur,” Merlin announced as soon as he entered Gaius's chambers.

The old physician looked at him curiously. "I'm still of the opinion that you and Morgana should be worried about yourselves. Why are you concerned about Arthur? He seemed very happy the other night."

"He's tired."

"He's probably exhausted from the sudden lifestyle change."

"It's more than that. Can you have a look, see if you notice it too? He collapsed in the bath this evening. If I'd left him alone he might have drowned."

Gaius regarded him sceptically. “That seems unlikely.”

“The water didn’t wake him. I was shaking him. I had to slap him in the end to wake him… um, he doesn’t know about that last bit,” Merlin added. “If you could avoid mentioning the slapping part, that would be good. Because, you know, he might think I need a slap back.”

“As I hold Arthur equally responsible for revealing your magic, he probably deserved it as much as you do. However, I’ll check on him. Hopefully it will just be tiredness.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Well. We’ll worry about that if it’s not.”

It wasn’t an answer that gave Merlin much reassurance.

 

 

Merlin sat on the stairs to Arthur’s tower with Morgana, waiting. He’d struggled to wake Arthur that morning, and although the prince had seemed fine once he’d had breakfast there was a nagging fear in Merlin’s mind that wouldn’t go away. He’d confided his fears in Morgana, and now wished he hadn’t because she looked as worried as he felt.

Gaius was up with Arthur, examining him. At first he’d let Merlin stay, using him as a translator for responses to any questions that he had for Arthur. But then, apparently, Merlin had been asking far too many questions of his own and Gaius had sent him away.

“Do you think he’ll be finished soon?” Morgana asked. Her fingers were lightly drumming on the side of the steps.

“I don’t know. Gaius said he’d call me back in as soon as he was done. But he’s still annoyed with me so he might make me wait.”

“It’s only because he cares about you.”

“I know.”

Morgana bit her lip. “Arthur was perfectly all right at the dinner the other evening. He was laughing, happy.”

Merlin shook his head. “No, it wore him out. He was asleep, sprawled across his bed fully clothed when I went to attend him. And yesterday Gwaine said there was a moment when he thought Arthur was going to fall asleep in the saddle. It was only a moment. He was laughing about it, he thought…” Merlin blushed to recall what Gwaine had suggested the reason was, and he wasn’t going to repeat it to a fine lady like Morgana. “He thought Arthur had been exerting himself.”

Morgana gave a horribly unladylike snort of laughter at that. “I can imagine exactly what he said. And somebody really needs to have Arthur _exert_ himself! You know,” she looked at Merlin sidelong, a calculating expression coming over her face. “That spell is broken by true love. Nobody says it has to be a girl. And there’s nobody who cares for Arthur more than you do. You should…”

Merlin was saved from hearing what Morgana thought he should do, although he had a fairly good idea what it was, by Gaius opening the door and calling him up at just that moment. He scrambled to his feet and raced up the steps, Morgana on his heels.

“Is he all right?” Merlin asked immediately. He’d noticed that Gaius had closed the door to Arthur’s rooms.

Gaius looked past them, down to where the guard was standing at the foot of the stairs. It was Percival, probably out of earshot and who was as trustworthy as he could be, but Gaius still lowered his voice to a whisper.

“I can’t be sure.”

“But?”

“What do you think it is?” Morgana demanded. “Is he ill? Is it the enchantment?”

Gaius gestured that she should keep her voice down. “I believe it is the enchantment, wearing him down. I don’t know enough about how it might work, but it looks as if it might be starting to have a draining effect on his strength. There are no signs of sickness but there’s a definite deterioration since I last examined him. It’s almost as if the way we’ve strengthened him over the past months has had a detrimental effect and the curse is fighting back. He’s in a worse physical state than he was before you arrived, Merlin.”

“But he’s better than he was back then,” Morgana protested. “He’s happier, he’s able to leave the tower.”

Gaius shook his head sadly. “That may have to stop, to contain the deterioration as best we can.”

“But he’ll hate that!” Merlin cried, then remembered he was supposed to be keeping his voice down. “He was like a prisoner up here. It was no life at all.”

Gaius sighed. “I’m sorry, but if we don’t and he continues to decline at the current rate, I would fear for his future.”

“You mean he might die?” Morgana gasped. “Gaius! We’ve only just got him back!”

“Is it the magic?” Merlin asked desperately. “Is it me? Am I doing this to him? I could leave, I could go far away where my magic can’t harm him.”

“I don’t know,” Gaius repeated. “But no, Merlin, I don’t think you should go anywhere. If only the king hadn’t destroyed so many books we’d have more knowledge to fall back on. But there’s nothing. And as for whether it would actually kill him, I don’t know that either. But it’s not impossible. Some curses are slow-acting and this particular one is very strong.”

“Well this settles one thing,” Merlin decided. He looked to Morgana. “We tell the princess, if you really think she’s trustworthy. We tell her, and we give Arthur every chance to have her love him.” He didn’t dare look at Gaius’s face. He could feel the disapproval coming off him in waves as it was, and could well imagine his mentor’s expression. But he didn’t care. “It’s for Arthur,” he told them. “We have to do it. There’s no choice.”

Morgana didn’t look as sure as she had when she’d first suggested it. Arthur had probably got to her with his concerns, Merlin realised.

“I’ll talk to her when she arrives,” Morgana promised. “I’ll judge her opinion on the subject, and then we’ll decide.”

“It won’t do Arthur any good at all to have to watch your execution,” Gaius warned. “He needs you at his side, you’re far too valuable to risk losing.”

“Much too valuable,” Morgana agreed. “Truly loving, in fact.”

Morgana, Merlin realised, was never going to let this go. “Does Arthur know what’s happening to him?” he asked quickly, wanting to divert Morgana’s train of thought.

“He does. He may have more questions, but I’ve answered what I can. You should attend to him. It’s best if he isn’t left alone to brood on it.” He sighed. “Poor Arthur. He doesn’t deserve any of this. Sometimes, with some sorcerers, the ones who do evil things like this… I can almost see Uther’s point.”

“But he’ll always be wrong,” Morgana snapped.

“Oh yes. But this one must know their spell hit the wrong person. They could undo it, but haven’t. In this one case, perhaps he would be less wrong.”

“Perhaps,” Morgana agreed. “But burning people to death isn’t something you could ever convince me is right.”

“Just make sure it’s never either of you,” Gaius warned. He gestured to the door. “Now go on, both of you. Arthur needs you.”

“Yes,” Morgana agreed, looking pointedly at Merlin. “I think he does.”

Merlin ignored her, and pushed open the heavy door. At least these days it was never barred, which was a small victory.

Arthur was sitting at the window, staring out. He didn’t look around when they came, in. That, Merlin had noticed over the months, was never a good sign though in this case he was hardly surprised.

Morgana rushed past him and ran over to pull her brother into a fierce hug.

“Don’t worry, Arthur. We’ll find a way. We’ll fix this.”

“Really, Morgana?” Arthur’s voice was cold as he struggled to disentangle himself from her embrace. “And how are you going to manage that? Are you going to dream me better? That will be very helpful.”

She looked to Merlin worriedly. Luckily she hadn’t been touching him at the time and didn’t understand what Arthur had said.

“Um… he said that would be very helpful,” Merlin muttered but he could see Morgana wasn’t fooled.

“I did not!” Arthur growled.

“Well, you _did_.”

“You really need to find a spell that just lets everyone understand me whether you’re here or not,” Arthur grumbled, and Morgana, who had put her hand on Merlin’s arm by that time, agreed.

“Or at least find a way that I can understand him too. That would help.” She looked at Arthur. “Though I don’t need Merlin to tell me when you’re being rude and insulting me.”

“Well you’re not the one falling asleep all over the place, Morgana. Gaius says no more riding, no more long feasts with my friends, no more of _anything_ that was fun or enjoyable. I have to sit up here, quietly, so that I don’t risk over-exerting myself and falling asleep in the bath. Just so that I can carry on this miserable existence for a little longer. So forgive me if I’m not being as polite as you might like. I don’t feel like it right now. And if you two have nothing else to do why don’t you both go down to the library and search for a cure? Because apparently even that might be too exciting for me now, and we all know that realistically no princess is going to fall in love with _this_.” He gestured down at himself. “Now go!”

“Mithian…”

“Go, Morgana. Please.”

With a worried glance at Merlin, Morgana did as she was bid. He had no doubt that she would head to the library, the books fascinated her. He’d caught her once or twice scribbling down spells from them, and had made her promise that she would never try them without him around to help, though he doubted she would keep to it.

“You too, Merlin.”

“Can’t. Things to do.” He gestured around the room, which looked unfortunately and unusually tidy. “And Gaius says I have to stay with you.”

“And _I_ say you have to go.”

“Hmm. And which of you is the scarier?”

Merlin watched Arthur’s face twitch in the beginning of a smile that he seemed determined to hide.

“Point taken. Go and… wash the floors or something.”

“So that you can sit there and brood at the window?”

“Exactly right. You see, you’re learning. And before you say it, I don’t care if my father wants me kept away from it. People know their prince is a freak, they might as well see it for themselves.”

“You’re not a freak.”

“No? Are you going to do that trick again? You know, the one where you conjure up fake pictures in my head? Pretend I’m _handsome_?” he added bitterly.

“They’re not fake,” Merlin cried indignantly. “ _This_ is fake, all this that’s been done to you. What I showed you is real, it’s how you really are, what people should really see!”

Arthur shook his head. “It’s not though, is it?” he said quietly. “And nobody, even if you help them talk to me, nobody is ever going to love me while I’m like this.”

He got up, starting to walk towards his bedchamber. “You can’t even deny it.”

“ _I_ love you.”

He hadn’t even meant to say it, it had just slipped out in a whisper, barely audible. And for all his avoidance of Morgana and her suspicions, he knew it to be true.

Arthur turned and looked at him. “What?”

Merlin didn’t think he could say it again. Not to say it, and have Arthur look at him as if he were addled in the head. Or worse, to send him away as some kind of abomination. Arthur had just made it quite clear that he didn’t believe Merlin really did see him as he really was. He probably thought Merlin was just trying to be kind. He might think that this was some kind of pity thing as well.

“I just… nothing.” He lowered his gaze to the floor, no longer able to look at Arthur. “I’ll go and… wash the floors, like you said.” He moved to leave, intending taking a very long time collecting the rags and bucket, but Arthur caught his arm.

“Oh no. I heard what you said. I want to know what you meant by it. Because, you know, it might seem like just a little thing to you, something to joke about. My father is parading me out in front of these girls and you can bet Mithian won’t be the last of them. All of them are being introduced to me with one aim, and yet you stand there and casually claim to love me!”

“It’s not casual!” Merlin snapped. “You think anyone would put up with all the complaining and teasing and running around after you if they didn’t? _I_ know you. I’m the only one, even now that the others can hear you too, I’m still the one who’s heard you for the longest. You’ve sat here and made promises for the future.”

“I have not.”

“Promises for the way Camelot will be when you’re king, the way Albion will be.”

“Those are dreams, not promises, Merlin.” Arthur let go of him, shaking his head. “I can’t promise anything for a land I’ll never be fit to rule.”

“But you will! We’ll find a way to break the curse!”

Arthur stared at him, and Merlin could almost see the thoughts running through his head as he considered it.

“Very well.”

“What?”

“Do it. Break the curse. True love’s kiss, that’s what it’s supposed to be.   So. Do it.”

Merlin gaped at him, dumbstruck.

“Well get on with it, Merlin. Don’t stand there staring at me. If you love me so much then kiss me.”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be at all. Not Arthur standing there, angry with him, demanding. In Merlin’s head, when he was alone in his bed at night, it was something sweet and quiet and shared because they both wanted it.

And then Arthur, being Arthur, apparently just got fed up with waiting. He stepped up so that he was right in Merlin’s face.

“Or is this just too disgusting for you, whatever you claim?”

There was nothing about Arthur that would ever be disgusting to Merlin. Except possibly his manner, sometimes, because there was a part of him that was never, ever going to stop being a prat. Arthur started to turn away, his shoulders slumping slightly, obviously thinking that he’d got his answer.

“Never,” Merlin told him, and reached out to pull Arthur close, capturing his mouth in a tentative kiss that deepened as it was eagerly reciprocated.

This was more what Merlin had hoped for, this was more like the Arthur of his dreams. He was possessive and demanding as he plundered Merlin’s mouth, letting Merlin’s fingers tangle in his hair. Merlin melted just a little in his prince’s arms.

Arthur ended the kiss, leaning his forehead against Merlin’s and waiting. Merlin knew what he was waiting for, but there was nothing. No change. No sudden flash of light and a golden prince standing there.

“Well Merlin,” Arthur said quietly, a wealth of sadness in his voice. “It looks as if it isn’t true love’s kiss.”

Merlin felt a surge of disappointment, both in himself and for Arthur. “It should have worked. Perhaps if I’d been a girl. Arthur, I could do it, I could change myself into a girl for you. We could try that. We could try anything, anything at all. The pictures… they were having sex. I could change, and we could try that?”

Arthur cupped Merlin’s face with one hand, still staying close. His thumb gently stroked the soft skin under Merlin’s eye, his expression more than fond.

“You’d do that for me?”

“I’d do anything for you, Arthur. Anything. And willingly, I’d bed you in a heartbeat if you’d have me.”

“Well,” Arthur breathed, close enough that Merlin could feel his heartbeat quicken. “That sounds like an offer I’d be a fool to refuse.” His mouth found Merlin’s again, less urgent this time, more caring. “But not a girl, Merlin. Don’t ever change for me.”

“If it saved you…”

“Gods, I don’t deserve you. Try this first. Just be you. Always you.” He pulled away again. “But are you sure about this, Merlin? You know what I am.”

“You’re my prince,” Merlin assured him, peppering little kisses across his face. “Let me do this for you, Arthur. Let me love you like I want to.”

“To break the curse?” Arthur asked uncertainly. Merlin hated the way there was a little catch in his voice when he asked.

“Not just the curse.” He pulled back a little so that he could look Arthur in the face. “Because I want to. There’s only you for me, Arthur.” Tentatively he reached down and took hold of Arthur’s hand, then took a step backwards, towards Arthur’s bedchamber. He gave a little tug on Arthur’s hand, never breaking his gaze. “Yes?”

Arthur just nodded, and let Merlin lead the way.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Some days the petitions were simply tedious. Others, they went on and on and it was hard to stay awake. For Uther, it was one of the things he liked least about being king. By now he would have expected to hand a good share of them over to Arthur to preside over. It would have been good experience for him to settle land disputes and imagined curses on sheep and goats that usually had their origin in a deep-rooted hatred of the owner’s neighbour. And it would have saved Uther having to sit through them all.

Contrary to popular opinion, Uther didn’t burn every person who was brought in front of him with claims of sorcery. There had to be evidence, or he would have had no kingdom left to rule.

There were many things that he would have hoped to have passed on to Arthur now that his son was an adult. Arthur could have been his representative, sent out to foreign courts. As it was Uther sometimes had to send out knights. Bedivere had been particularly useful in that regard, being the eldest son of one of Uther’s most trusted nobles, but even he was no real substitute for sending out the next in line to the throne.

He had been putting off setting up a replacement for Arthur. More than anything he desperately wanted his son to inherit the throne, but with every year that passed it became less likely. He was contemplating sending for Lord Agravaine, his late wife’s brother, to hold a permanent place in court. Agravaine was a frequent visitor and it would hardly be a major step to have him officially installed as Uther’s deputy in all things. And, as Arthur’s uncle, surely he would step aside in favour of the son of his beloved sister when the time came. He had hoped that Agravaine would protect Morgana as well, but she had made her feelings on a possible marriage more than plain. As a queen, alone, he could not see her lasting long and cared too much about her to put her in that position.

Uther had not become king by blindly trusting people, no matter who they were. But Agravaine was family. He was the best hope that, should something happen to Uther, Arthur would not be hounded and slaughtered like a beast by some usurper wanting the throne, and Morgana probably taken by force to provide some legitimacy. At some point Uther knew he was going to have to put his faith in someone, and he thought the time had probably come. Sometimes, lately, there were just little things, small reminders that his body gave him that it wasn’t as young as it had once been. Kings who took the throne by force and had no heir able to stand with them didn’t tend to live to a grand old age. Unlike physicians. Gaius had appeared at the front of the hall and was looking at him with that expression he had when he wanted something and was being made to wait. Whatever it was, it had to be more interesting than the petitions.

The two men in front of him had stopped talking and were looking at him expectantly. He had no idea what they had wanted, so he looked to the nearest knight. It was a young one that he’d only recently knighted, and he struggled to remember the young man’s name.

“Sir Owain, were you listening?”

He saw the knight’s concern at being addressed, and smiled to himself. He did quite enjoy making people uncomfortable. It was one of the more enjoyable aspects of being king.

“Yes, Sire.”

“Good. What would you do?”

The two men both glared at poor Owain, who spluttered awkwardly for a few moments, then ventured an opinion. “I… would kill the cow and share the carcass equally between them, Sire.”

“An excellent and fair decision. Well done.” He could see Owain was looking concerned, probably expecting more to come of it. There was nothing wrong with keeping an element of fear in his court either. “And that is what shall be done. Now, Gaius,” he looked to the physician, ignoring the two men who were both looking dismayed at the outcome. They probably wanted to breed the cow or something. Still, it would teach them to try to resolve their own squabbles in the future. “Did you want something?”

“I would speak to you privately when you’ve finished here, Sire.”

It was exactly what Uther had hoped for. He got to his feet. “Our physician is a busy man. We would all hate to waste his time waiting. Petitions are finished for the day. Come, Gaius.”

He ignored the grumbling from behind him. Petitions were always from weak-minded people who couldn’t reach a sensible decision themselves. He had no time for any of them.

“Well now, Gaius,” Uther said as soon as they were alone. “What is it?”

It wasn’t good news, he could tell from Gaius’s face. But then it never was.

“It’s about Arthur…”

 

 

They’d failed to break the curse.

Merlin had been half-expecting it after the kiss hadn’t worked, but it was still a disappointment. He could only imagine what Arthur would think. He had lain there, afterwards, obviously waiting, hoping for the impossible.

“This isn’t because I don’t love you,” Merlin whispered eventually. “This is because that wasn’t the way to break it. That book was old, perhaps we translated it wrongly.”

“Or perhaps you translated it correctly but the information was just wrong?” Arthur agreed. He pulled Merlin closer, but Merlin noticed he was still a little hesitant, still ashamed of his body. Merlin wished he could convince Arthur that all he saw was the man that he loved, nothing else mattered.

“We could try again?” he ventured.

Arthur kissed the top of his head fondly. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Merlin smiled. He was drowsing against Arthur contentedly, almost asleep. He knew he should probably get up, people tended to visit the tower more now and it probably wouldn’t do for them to be caught like that, even by their friends.

“I’m not sorry,” Arthur continued. “I wish it had broken the curse, but I’m not sorry we did it.” He carded his fingers through Merlin’s hair. His deformed hand made the motion clumsy and awkward, but it was loving and gentle too. Merlin leaned into it. “Stay with me tonight?”

“Gladly.” He’d have to find some excuse that Gaius would believe, or pretend to believe, as to why he wasn’t in his room but that would be easy enough. “Every night, if you want me.”

“I’ll always want you,” Arthur promised, his hand moving down to stroke the back of Merlin’s neck. “I don’t know how you can stand this with me, but you know I love you more than anything.”

“And I you.” Merlin rolled over so that he was half-lying across Arthur. “I don’t know why this didn’t work, but we’ll find another way, I promise you.” He smiled, because all he could see was Arthur and he didn’t really care whether it was the golden prince who was so beautiful, or the enchanted prisoner he’d come to love so much. They were one and the same. Arthur smiled back at him almost shyly, still not fully confident at being naked with him yet. Merlin would change that, he was determined to. “Kiss me.”

Arthur tilted his head up to capture Merlin’s mouth with his own. Arthur tasted of hope and longing and an underlying frisson of magic that Merlin had vowed to one day free him of. He shifted closer, deciding it would probably be worth the risk to stay there a little while longer after all.

They were both so lost in each other that they didn’t hear the outer door to the tower open, or register that there were footsteps outside until it was too late. The door to the bedchamber was suddenly flung open, and then everything went to hell.

Just for a moment the king stood there, staring in shocked horror at what he saw. Merlin and Arthur stared back at him.

“Father…” Arthur breathed.

Uther looked at him as if he’d never really seen him before. Then his gaze fell on Merlin, and turned furious.

“ _Deviant!_ ” Uther snarled, dragging Merlin from the bed and throwing him on the floor. “Is that how you get your kicks? Sex with my mutated and deformed son? I sent you here to help him, not to abuse him!”

He slapped Merlin hard around the head as the servant cowered on the floor, scrabbling for his clothes. This wasn’t something Merlin had even considered. Uther had gifted Arthur with whores before his enchantment, Arthur had told him about them. If Arthur had wanted a male, there had never been a problem. But Uther… Uther thought he was actually getting off on Arthur’s deformity. The realisation made him want to throw up. If Arthur thought that…

“Tell him we were trying to break the curse,” Arthur hissed.

“The curse!” Merlin gasped, keeping out of Uther’s grasp. “We were trying to break the curse. True love’s kiss and…um…”

He could tell from the thunderous expression on Uther’s face that it wasn’t helping their cause at all. It was the worst thing he could possibly have said.

“True love? You are a _servant_ , boy! How dare you think that my son, the crown prince, even as afflicted as he is, you think that he would ever stoop so low?” He raised his hand again, and this time Merlin managed to duck out of the way, jerking back as he pulled his breeches up.

“Guards!” Uther shouted, then aimed a kick at Merlin which missed its intended target and hit him on the thigh. It still hurt.

Gwaine and Lancelot were in the doorway within moments.

“Take him to the dungeons!” He grabbed hold of Merlin by the hair, pulling his head back painfully.

“Father, no!” Arthur cried, and Merlin’s heart sank, knowing they were done for.

Uther froze, then slowly turned to look at his son. Arthur was pulling his breeches on, struggling to get off the bed. Uther had a dagger out in moments, pressing it to Merlin’s throat.

“What did you say?” Uther breathed. Arthur just gaped at Merlin in horror. “Speak again, now!” Uther demanded, ignoring the two knights who had rushed over to take hold of Merlin.

“I’ve got him, Sire,” Gwaine breathed. “You can let go now. We’ll take him.”

“Not yet. I just heard my son speak quite clearly. A few moments ago, when I wasn’t touching this creature, all I could hear from him was that infernal noise. Say again, Arthur. Or should I assume that this… this _sorcerer_ enchanted me, just as he has you? I heard you speak, and I’ve seen enough of the evils of sorcery to recognise it when it’s right there in front of me. Quickly now, or I slit his throat!”

Arthur hesitated, looking fearfully at Merlin, at the blade pressing on his throat, then spoke. Except, what came out of his mouth was what, Merlin realised, Arthur believed he sounded like to others. It was a desperate attempt, and Uther wasn’t fooled for a moment. Merlin felt the blade pressed harder against his skin, a small trickle of warmth running down his neck where the dagger had pierced his skin.

“Don’t play me for a fool, Arthur. That was proof enough. He’ll burn at dawn.”

“No!” Arthur gasped, and Merlin felt Uther flinch on hearing him speak again. “Father, please! He’s the only one who can understand me! You don’t know what it’s like, the magic doesn’t matter.” He tried to move closer, but Uther warned him off with the blade.

“Don’t think I won’t finish this now, Arthur. Listen to yourself. He’s ensorcelled you, the sooner he dies the better for us all. Who knows, perhaps he’s been upholding the spell on you all this time? Perhaps in the morning you’ll suddenly be freed of this curse?”

Merlin could see it, the brief, painful flicker of doubt crossing Arthur’s face, but it was gone as swiftly as it appeared.

“Merlin would never do that to me.”

“You fool, he’s bewitched you.” Uther turned to Gwaine. “Bind him, then take him to the dungeons.” He paused, considering Gwaine. “And if he escapes, I’ll hold you responsible.” He glanced at Lancelot. “You too.”

“Oh don’t worry, Sire,” Gwaine had produced rope from somewhere, and Merlin didn’t want to think why Gwaine might carry things like that around on guard duty. “We’ve all been taken in. I won’t let him out of my sight.”

Uther regarded him carefully. “See that you don’t. Have Kay and Bedivere take charge of guarding him.”

“Is there to be no trial?” Arthur protested. “Father, in the sake of fairness you must hold a trial.”

Uther glared at Gwaine.   “I assume this only works when you’re touching the sorcerer. So what did my son just say?”

“Arthur’s asking for a trial,” Gwaine translated. He looked down at Merlin. “This is really weird. I can understand what he says. He sounds completely different.” It sounded unconvincing to Merlin, but luckily Uther didn’t notice.

“The boy is clearly guilty on several counts. I won’t have the Pendragon name dragged through the mire of common gossip. What has happened here is sorcery, do you understand?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“You’re never to speak a word of how I found them. We will find a cure for Arthur, he will be king one day and this… perversity will never have happened.”

“No, Sire.”

Uther stared down at Merlin. “There is no need of a trial when the one who committed the crimes is so clearly damned. Do you deny you are a sorcerer, boy?”

“No,” Merlin tilted his head up defiantly. “But I do deny that I’d ever do anything to harm Arthur.

Uther waved his hand dismissively. “Take him away.”

“Only you would do that,” Merlin continued. He struggled against the bonds Gwaine had tied him with then realised how loose they were. He continued to struggle, for show, but held the rope in place with his fingers. “You’re the one who hurt Arthur. He would never even have been under the enchantment if it wasn’t for your stupid and cruel laws on sorcery! Not all magic is evil, most of it is only ever used for good!”

“Silence him!” Uther ordered.

“And you’re such a hypocrite, ordering us to read through books on magic to find a cure for Arthur, using magic when it suits _you_ , all…”

“Silence!” Uther roared, and Gwaine clapped a hand over Merlin’s mouth.

“Shut up,” he hissed. “Lest the king have me run you through where you stand! Don’t think I won’t, for the way you’ve made fools of us all!”

“I knew you couldn’t be trusted,” Arthur snarled. “Harm him, and I’ll hunt you down. I swear I’ll make you pay.”

Gwaine ignored him and bundled Merlin out of the room, Lancelot following. Gwaine didn’t remove his hand until they were on the stairs. Then he hissed “Stay quiet,” before Merlin could begin to tell him what he thought of Uther.

“We have minutes, if that,” Lancelot observed as they hurried down the stairs. “Ah. Less.”

Leon was running towards them, Percival at his heels.

“We heard shouting. What happened?” Leon demanded. “Why is Merlin bound?”

“The king knows,” Gwaine told him. “We need to get Merlin out of here. Lance and I have to take him. Neither of us can stay here if he goes. You two need to go… go to the king so he knows you weren’t involved. Say you’re checking on Arthur. Go!”

Leon hesitated. “You two don’t stand a chance on your own. We’ll all go.”

“No,” Merlin insisted. “I can get us out, but Arthur needs people here that he can rely on. And Leon, please tell Arthur that we’re not leaving him.”

“Oh, we are,” Gwaine pointed out. “Did you not hear the king?”

“Tell him I’ll come back when I’ve found a way to break the curse. Outside Camelot it should be easier. Tell him not to give up, I won’t let him down.”

“Concentrate on keeping your head,” Gwaine snarled. “Now move! The moment we’re in the centre of the courtyard do whatever it is you’re going to do. You two just _go_ ,” he nodded to Leon and Percival.

“Good luck,” Leon breathed, and then he and Percival were gone, heading up the stairs. Leon was calling for Arthur and the king, making it obvious his first concern was their well-being. That was good, Merlin thought. Arthur couldn’t afford to lose Leon.

“Let’s do it,” Lancelot urged. “Just don’t hit us with whatever you’re about to do.”

They marched out, Gwaine pushing Merlin ahead of him. People turned and stared, he was known as Arthur’s servant and even if few of them ever saw Arthur himself, they all recognised Merlin. And now he was walking across the courtyard barefoot, his clothing dishevelled, his hands bound and two Camelot knights walking behind him, their faces stern and cold. There were other knights coming out of the stables to see what was happening. Waiting until they were in the centre of the courtyard was going to be far too late, Merlin realised.

“Now!” he whispered.

It was an easy enough spell, one he’d practised in his head many times. One for repelling enemies, should any get too close to Arthur. Merlin had intended it as a defence when they were out riding, not as something to use against Arthur’s own people. He’d talked to Arthur about it, about the possibilities one day to have a force made up of both knights and warlocks working together to defend Camelot. A powerful force, and yet united in a peaceful kingdom where magic wasn’t banned and magic users weren’t hunted down and killed.

That wasn’t Uther Pendragon’s kingdom, and it never would be. Uther, who soured everything he touched. Merlin hated the thought of leaving Arthur with him. But there were Leon and Morgana still around to help him, and Gaius.   As long as Gaius wasn’t implicated somehow for bringing Merlin to Camelot. But the old physician was wily and clever, and Merlin had to trust that he could get himself out of this.

Merlin turned as he cast the spell, seeing Gwaine and Lancelot duck behind him, careful not to hit them as well. Every single person in the courtyard, except the three of them, was thrown backwards, repelled and knocked off their feet.

“Stay down!” he commanded, and with the exception of some of the knights they all obeyed. Others, servants and townspeople who had been unfortunate enough to be caught up in it all, were scrambling to get away, heading for the nearest building or shelter. He didn’t care where they went as long as they kept out of the way.

There was a figure up in Arthur’s window, and Merlin raised one hand in a silent and brief farewell. There was no time for anything more, the three of them were racing for the stables. The ground hurt his bare feet and Merlin wished more than anything that he’d had time to put his boots on. Behind them he could hear Uther roaring, furious, screaming at his men to stop them. The king must have followed them down and Merlin prayed Leon and Percival were up with Arthur and wouldn’t have to either fight their friends or have any sort of blame laid at their feet. It was bad enough that Gwaine and Lancelot would have a price on their heads. Gwen was going to be heartbroken… but he couldn’t think of that, or of Gaius or any of them. He had to get away, find a way to break the curse for Arthur before it was too late.

They got lucky, a patrol had been getting ready to ride out. It was almost easy to sweep the men aside and take the horses, galloping out of the castle long before anyone thought to close the gates. And then they were through the lower town and out into the fields beyond, not slowing for anything, trying to put as much distance between themselves and Uther as they could.

On they rode until the shadows grew long and their horses grew tired. Only then did they stop and rest.

“We can’t stay here long,” Lancelot warned. “They’ll find us. It’s too close to Camelot.”

Merlin shook his head, then stretched out his hand, his eyes flashing a brief gold. Neither knight even flinched, he was pleased to see. “They have to be able to see us to find us. You know, if either of you have something I could use to wrap around my feet, that would really help. They hurt.”

Lancelot searched through the saddlebag on his horse, but Gwaine just threw the contents of his on the ground in front of Merlin. Lancelot smiled, and did the same.

“Lance, you get some firewood while Merlin’s fixing his shoes. I’ll see if I can catch us something to eat,” Gwaine ordered. Apparently being Lancelot’s fake older brother meant that he got to boss him around. “And then we can sit around the fire and you, Merlin, can explain to us why you and Arthur were both half-naked when we found you.” He grinned. “Those are my favourite sort of stories!”

 

 

In the days that followed, Arthur found that his life reverted to the way it had been before Merlin’s arrival. It was a quiet life, shut away from the world. He was almost glad of the fact that he felt so tired so often that he spent a considerable amount of time asleep.

George had taken over manservant duties from Merlin. He was neat and tidy, flawlessly efficient, and deferred to Arthur constantly. It was beyond tedious. Obviously it wasn’t George’s fault that he couldn’t understand anything Arthur said, but the fact that he seemed to think that he should remain silent and respectful, and actually bowed his head when he’d performed some task…

Arthur could only think of Merlin and how he would have laughed if Arthur had even suggested he behave in such a way. And then he thought of Merlin’s head, bowed against his shoulder, snuggling close in Arthur’s bed on that last fateful day and just felt the loss so much more keenly.

Once, his father’s manservant came in to speak to George about some changes to his duties. Apparently Lord Agravaine de Bois, Arthur’s uncle on his mother’s side, would be residing at Camelot until further notice, and George was to serve him as well as Arthur.

“I hope you’re finding George more efficient than your last manservant,” Edward had said to Arthur. “Your rooms, I notice, are much cleaner now. I wonder really what that dreadful boy did with himself all day. Still, sorcerers are a law unto themselves, are they not?”

There was nothing that Merlin had done that George would be even halfway capable of, Arthur reflected. Companion at first, then friend and ultimately lover. George wouldn’t know how to be any of those things.

But all Arthur did was write down, as clearly as he could: “I know what you did at the feast, with the food lists. Never speak of Merlin again.”

Edward had blanched, then recovered. He looked Arthur up and down, then very deliberately gave an overly deep bow. “Of course not. Sire.” And then he’d called across to George to give Lord Agravaine every possible attention, because who knew how high he might rise in Camelot.

It made Arthur ever more mistrustful of George, although the young servant never gave him any cause to think he was anything other than subservient. If anything Arthur thought he was possibly almost a simpleton, given his rigid devotion to his duty. Merlin had thought George innocent of the food incident and believed him to be led by Edward, so Arthur took that to be the truth of it. He hoped it was correct, because George was now bringing his food and having someone untrustworthy doing that didn’t bear thinking about.

Leon, Gaius and Morgana were his visitors now. Percival had come along with Leon the first time, but his conversation skills were limited at the best of times and he’d merely stood there nodding agreement with whatever Leon had said.

Leon had passed on Merlin’s message, and Arthur clung to that. Whatever his father said (and Uther had said plenty) he didn’t believe that Merlin could mean him any harm, and he held onto the belief that he was out there somewhere trying to find a way to break the curse.

Leon also took him riding once or twice. Gaius didn’t approve, but they made sure he didn’t find out about it until it was too late to do anything about it. Then one day Arthur fell from his horse, exhausted, when they returned to the stables, and Leon was reluctant to take him out again after that.

Gaius, miraculously, had managed to convince Uther that he’d known nothing about Merlin’s magic. Gaius, Arthur thought, was the biggest liar and conman in the five kingdoms. Either that or he had some kind of blackmail material held over Uther, because it was blindingly obvious that the man who had worked with Uther to purge magic from Camelot would be able to see magical ability in his apprentice. But no, Gaius got away with it, and Arthur was glad to see him do so. He knew magic users, or those with some knowledge of it were his only hope and he really didn’t want to see the old man banished or worse.

Morgana visited him daily. She spent the time telling him about the spells she’d been attempting, in order to hear him speak again. It was surprising, really, how much he enjoyed her company now. Their relationship was odd at best; she seemed glad to embrace him as her brother, but no amount of time seemed enough for her to even begin to consider Uther as her father. As far as she was concerned, by some giant leap of logic Gorlois was her father, Arthur was her brother, and that was that. Arthur suspected that he wouldn’t argue with her over it even if he could speak to her.

Arthur wrote down his concerns over the spells, that she might be discovered and not have the chance to escape like Merlin had done. Everything he wrote he showed her then burned. George was never allowed to stay when Morgana visited. Every last scrap had to be destroyed, with no chance of anyone ever reading it. Leon would appear to help him more often than not, then escort Morgana back to her chambers like the perfect knight he was. Arthur despaired of him, knowing that there was little chance of his strong-willed sister returning his affection, and even less that Uther would allow his daughter to marry a second son of a not particularly influential noble family, no matter how good and loyal a knight that man might be. Especially as Uther still apparently had hopes of marrying her to Agravaine, which Arthur and Morgana both agreed was a hideous prospect.

Arthur didn’t like Agravaine very much. His uncle had visited the tower once, blanched at the sight of his nephew and never returned. It was, Gaius had explained, probably because Arthur had shown such a strong resemblance to his mother as he was growing up. The shock of his altered appearance would have been upsetting for him. It was yet another part of his sister that was lost to him.

Arthur might at one stage have liked his father to explain that to him, but Uther never talked about Ygraine, and at any rate since Merlin’s escape Uther had been even more elusive than he had before. Arthur supposed that sinking to the depths of sleeping with your sorcerous servant was the final nail in his coffin as far as Uther was concerned, and that he was considered beyond redemption.

Morgana, though, was another matter. Given his own situation, he suspected Uther would try anything to get on Morgana’s good side. She’d told him in no uncertain terms how cruel he was to drive Merlin away and Uther had merely yelled at her. An outburst like that in the past might well have earned her a night in the dungeons. Arthur knew all about that, he’d spent several such nights himself whilst growing up, and he was certain that if he’d continued in the court through his later teens, he would have added to his tally considerably.

It was hopeless, though. Morgana would not relent. That, above everything, ironically proved her parentage. It was another thing not to point out to her.

Still, she was there again, coming into his rooms, her face tired and drawn and far too serious. Nobody was working harder on his behalf, except hopefully Merlin. And, as good as it was to see her, whenever that door opened he always wished it was a young man with a ratty neckerchief and a ready smile, probably tripping over his own feet.

It had been a lonely world before Merlin came along. Without him, Arthur wasn’t sure he could stand it. He wondered where Merlin was, and how he was managing. He tried not to think of the fact that he was out there with Gwaine. Because Gwaine had been brave and loyal, and had risked his own neck. His own perfect, handsome neck.

No, Arthur wasn’t going to think about him being out there with Merlin at all.

Morgana hugged him, and when he pulled away a few moments later he could see the pity and love in her eyes. Not completely alone then. It just felt like it.

 

 

After a few days, it had become apparent that they weren’t going to be captured by Uther’s men and that in fact it seemed there was no longer an active search going on. Merlin had hidden them very effectively with a concealment spell that he’d been developing to allow Arthur to go out as he pleased. It was just a shame they’d never had a chance to use it.

Clothes had been the first problem. There was Merlin’s footwear, which he’d managed to solve temporarily although he was no cobbler and doubted the things he’d created from Lancelot’s cloak and some strips of cloth were going to last at all well. And then there was the distinctive livery of two presumably now banished Camelot knights. Even without the cloaks, it was clear what they were. They were easily recognisable and would be viewed with mistrust when they approached the druid settlements that the group intended going to for information.

The first group that they met were nomads and evidently frightened by the knights. There were only a few of them, and Merlin quickly established that they had been driven out of Uther’s lands many years before. They had little in the way of magic or knowledge of it, or so they’d claimed. They said that those who had practiced it in their group had been slaughtered, and then they’d looked at the two knights again.

There had been no help there, and they moved on. There was a druid village, but they would not let the knights near despite Merlin’s pleading with them, and the trio reluctantly moved on, no nearer their goal.

Merlin went in by himself the second time they encountered druids. As he pointed out to the other two, it wasn’t as if they could protect him against magic.

The second group were very different. For one thing, they appeared to have been expecting him. It was a little unnerving to walk into their settlement, hands raised in what he hoped they would take as a peaceful gesture, and have a grey-haired man he soon learned was their leader walk out of his hut and greet him.

“Emrys. We have awaited you.” He gave a small bow of his head, a gesture of respect.

Merlin tripped over his makeshift boots and barely stopped himself falling in the dirt. Arthur would have laughed, he thought, and then pushed that thought aside because he couldn’t be distracted.

“My name’s Merlin,” he told the man.

“You are Emrys. I am Iseldir. Come, sit with me.” He was gesturing towards his hut. Lancelot had been quite insistent that Merlin didn’t go out of their sight.

Merlin glanced back at the trees where the two knights were hiding, concerned that they might come charging out.

“Your friends may join you. We ask that they put aside their weapons while they are in our camp. In return we would willingly share our food and shelter with you. Men of peace are always welcome here.”

Merlin wasn’t sure there was anything peaceful about Gwaine, particularly after he’d visited the tavern, but Lancelot was reliable enough. He called them over.

Iseldir’s hut was simple but comfortable enough. It was smaller than his mother’s home, which surprised him. He’d thought they’d had so little, but the druids existed peacefully on far less. They were given bread and a stew that was considerably tastier than it looked.

“The prophets have told of your coming for many lifetimes, Emrys,” Iseldir told him. Gwaine looked as if he might make some facetious comment, but Lancelot jabbed him in the ribs and he remained silent. “You herald a new age of magic, a united Albion where magic can be performed freely.”

“Sadly not under Uther’s reign,” Merlin commented.

“But it is not for Uther that you come here?”

Merlin shook his head. “I serve Arthur. He is a good man, and will be a great king.”

Iseldir nodded, understanding. “But not whilst he is afflicted with the curse.”

“We were hoping you would know how to break it,” Lancelot put in.

Iseldir regarded him for a moment. “Lancelot du Lac, the purest of heart. Why do you fight, Lancelot, when your nature is that of a man of peace?”

“It’s never me that’s pure of heart, is it?” Gwaine muttered, and this time Merlin smacked him to keep him quiet.

Iseldir had a point, Merlin thought. He could see Lancelot taking up a priesthood, or going off on a crusade for some holy relic.

“While innocent people are in danger, it is my duty to defend them,” Lancelot told him.

Iseldir pursed his lips, then turned back to look at Merlin. “The legends do speak of Emrys and the Once and Future King, and the great kingdom they will build together. Lately there have been other signs, other paths. Uther Pendragon may not be long for this world and Arthur’s time draws near. You need to move quickly, Emrys, or Arthur will never be king, and Albion’s golden age will never come about.”

“Is there going to be a war?” Merlin asked. “Uther was healthy when we left.”

“His lungs certainly were,” Gwaine added.

Iseldir shook his head. “Sometimes those we think are our friends are something quite different. But I do not have the answers you seek. You must go to Aglain. It is growing late. Rest here tonight, and in the morning I will guide you to him. When you have succeeded, which you must, remember to tell your king of our help. Sometimes those we think are our enemies are also something quite different. The druid people will be glad to make peace, but only with Arthur. There can be no other king at this time. You must ensure this comes to pass.”

“Will this Aglain be able to break the spell?” Gwaine wanted to know.

“No. Only Arthur himself can do that.”

Merlin frowned. “But Arthur has no magic.”

“Perhaps not,” Iseldir admitted. “Aglain will explain it to you. I am merely your guide.”

The druids, Merlin thought, were almost as incomprehensible as Kilgharrah was.

 

 

“Arthur…Arthur…Arthur!”

He’d been asleep again. It was the middle of the afternoon and he was face down on the floor of his bedchamber. The cold of the stone had left his face almost numb, and his whole body ached from the awkward position he’d been lying in.

It was Morgana, kneeling beside him, shaking him. Behind her he could see George, wringing his hands worriedly. It probably wouldn’t do to have the crown prince collapsed on his watch, Arthur supposed.

“Thank goodness! Try to sit up, slowly now,” Morgana urged.

George rushed forward to help, but Morgana waved him away.

“Arthur can manage, thank you George. Go and call Gaius. The king is unwell, Gaius is probably with him. Oh, and then get my brother something to eat.”

George gave a little bow, one of the many, many things that annoyed Arthur about him, glanced at something behind Arthur with what looked like annoyance, and left.

“Here, take a little of this.” It was Gwen, Morgana’s maid, holding out a goblet. No wonder George had been annoyed, he probably thought she was the one who should leave. Morgana of course felt differently, Arthur often felt that she loved Gwen like a sister and the girl was so kind-hearted and good that Arthur could hardly blame her. He reached for the goblet, but his hand didn’t seem to want to open to take it. That had happened a few times, he’d put it down to stiffness in his muscles and had just tried to flex his hand until it started working again. This time it was slower, he had slept with it curled up under him and it wasn’t responding very quickly.

“Let me help,” Gwen offered, and she held the goblet to his lips so that he could take a few sips of the blessedly cool water. “You’ll recover soon, I’m sure.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said.

Morgana gave a little gasp, and clapped her hands with delight, a huge smile on her face. “It worked! Gwen, it worked! He thanked you!”

Arthur frowned. “Well, I’m not completely ignorant!”

“No, I _understood_ you!” Morgana clasped his hands in hers. “I found a spell and tried it, and it worked! You can talk to me! I can hear you!”

“Keep your voice down, my lady!” Gwen urged.

Morgana paled, and glanced at the door which George had left slightly ajar when he left.

“He’ll be halfway to Gaius by now,” Arthur assured her. “He’ll probably be more interested in seeing if he can ingratiate himself to my father on his sickbed than in listening in on us. And I think Leon’s on guard duty this afternoon, you’re safe enough.” He smiled at her. “Thank you for this. You have no idea what it means to me. And years ago when we were growing up… always fighting and sniping… I would never have thought that you would become so important to me.”

“I only did it so that I could carry on sparring with you, Arthur,” she snorted. “Don’t go soft on me.”

But he saw the way her eyes were shining a little too brightly, and how quick she was to turn away.

 

 

True to his word, Iseldir had woken Merlin at first light, and rode out with him. The druid had gifted Merlin with boots that were old and worn, but a thousand times better than what he had been using.

They rode for almost two days. It was late afternoon on the second day when Iseldir held up his hand and bid them stop.

“Wait here. I will return. It is best if I go ahead first.”

He slid down from his horse, handed the reins to Lancelot, and then ran off into the trees.

“It’s never me that even gets picked to hold their horses, is it?” Gwaine grumbled. “It’s all the legendary _Emrys_ or Sir Pure and Honourable over there.”

“I’m sure they have a name for you, too, Gwaine,” Lancelot consoled him.

“Do you think he’d want to hear it though?” Merlin pointed out. His gaze was still on the trees where Iseldir had just vanished.

“Sir Gwaine of the Taverns, pickled at heart.”

Gwaine gave Lancelot a mock glare for that. Then he looked to the trees as well, following Merlin’s gaze. “How do we know he’s not going to bring a druid army out to slaughter us where we stand? They have no love for Camelot.”

“Arthur will change things. They have good reason to help him,” Merlin reminded him. He fidgeted a little in the saddle, wishing Iseldir would hurry back. He was impatient to get on, find how to help Arthur and then get back to him before whatever was going to happen to Uther led to Arthur’s loss as well.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but Merlin knew was probably only about twenty minutes or so, Iseldir was back, hurrying through the grass towards them.

“Emrys, come. The entrance to the village is easier on foot. Leave your horse.” Gwaine went to dismount as well, but Iseldir held up his hand. “Only Emrys. He will not be harmed.”

“Because he’s a great legend, we know,” Gwaine rolled his eyes at Lancelot.

“I’ll be fine,” Merlin assured him. He dismounted fairly cleanly, his riding abilities having improved greatly since first riding out with Arthur, and started to follow Iseldir.

“We’ll be waiting,” Gwaine assured him. “If you’re not back in two hours we’ll come looking for you.”

“He will be in no danger,” Iseldir assured him. “I doubt we could harm Emrys even if we wished to do so.”

It probably didn’t reassure Gwaine, but Merlin had no time to worry about that. He walked alongside Iseldir, through the cool shade of the trees. There was a sharp drop on the other side, down into a small clearing where there were a number of dwellings. Completely hidden by the forest, it would have been very hard to find.

“Aglain is our king,” Iseldir explained. “Yet he too is eager to meet the great Emrys. You will meet him again one day, should you succeed in bringing Arthur to the throne.”

“It’s my destiny, according to the dragon.”

“There are many possible destinies. Careful there,” Iseldir pointed at a root that Merlin had nearly stumbled over. “That is why we don’t ride in.”

“Thanks.”

“Succeed in your task, and bring us all peace. Restore magic to the land with your king. That is all the thanks we require.”

A tall, dark-skinned man had emerged from one of the huts and stood waiting for them. Striking and a little imposing, Merlin was certain he had to be Aglain even though it wasn’t the largest of the huts by any means.

He inclined his head towards Merlin when the young warlock was closer.

“Emrys. You are welcome.” He stepped back, and held up the heavy cloth that served as a door to his dwelling. “Enter.”

Strangely enough the hut of the king was even less impressive than the dwellings he had seen in Iseldir’s village. It was as if the more important you were, the less you owned. Quite the opposite of Camelot.

“Sit.”

Iseldir sat on the floor cross-legged, and Merlin assumed that he was expected to follow suit. Aglain was drawing a cup of what smelled like honeyed wine, and held it out to him.

“Please drink.”

Merlin eyed it dubiously, gave it a little sniff, and then seeing Iseldir drinking his own and smiling slightly at Merlin’s hesitancy convinced him to drink it. It tasted sweet and warmed him through.

“Thank you. That’s very good.”

Aglain gave a little nod of acknowledgement. “Perhaps one day it will be sold in Camelot, drunk at the king’s table? But that is for the future. You are here because you seek my help?”

Merlin put the cup down, leaning forward. “Prince Arthur was cursed many years ago. We can’t find a way to free him from it. I’m told that you know.”

“I do. The sorcerer called on an ancient form of magic. There is no easy way to break it.”

“We found something. It was supposed to be true love that would free him. But… we found someone that loved him and it didn’t work.”

Aglain laughed at that, and Merlin assumed he could guess exactly who it was that they had found. His laugh, like his voice, was deep and rich. "Ah, young Emrys. You still have much to learn. It is not that the young Pendragon needs to be loved himself. The curse is a lesson. Those enchanted by it are loveless creatures, ensorcelled in order to learn the value of affection and selflessness. Only when they have performed a totally brave and selfless act will they be freed from it."

Merlin considered this. "But that's exactly how he fell under the curse in the first place. Arthur is brave."

"The enchantment was not intended for Arthur."

"Oh please don't tell me Uther needs to perform the selfless act. Because if that's the case then Arthur's never going to be free.”

The druid chuckled. "Indeed. But no, it is entirely down to Arthur. And Emrys, if you tell him this is the case then any act he performs may not be for completely selfless reasons. Remember that. You cannot tell him, only guide him. And time is running short."

“Can you tell me what sort of act would work?”

Aglain stopped smiling. “I am sorry, Emrys. The only thing that will break this is if Arthur is willing to lay down his own life for another, out of love. That is the purest and truest form of love, and that is what will break the spell.”

“But… then he’ll die. How can he be king?”

“He is the once and future king. Unless you fail. Then he is nothing, the forgotten son of a tyrant.”

“Or the dead son of a tyrant. There must be another way!” Merlin exclaimed.

“There is no other way. And you must hurry, Emrys. Uther Pendragon’s time is almost over. The dawn of Albion’s golden age is in your hands.”

Not for the first time, Merlin wished that it wasn’t.

 

 

It had been over ten years since Arthur had last stood in his father’s bedchamber. He recalled the incident well; Uther had fallen from his horse and injured his leg. There had been a great deal of cursing, much of it directed at Gaius, and many people rushing back and forth with panicked expressions on their faces. Arthur had simply followed when his father was brought in, and nobody had thought to send him away. He had always had a great deal more respect for Gaius after that day. He didn’t think there was anyone else in Camelot who would have dared to continue a painful treatment on the king after being threatened with as many things as Gaius was. And of course he’d been right, Uther recovered and Gaius did not end up boiled in oil, thrown in the dungeons to rot, fed to Uther’s dogs or given to the knights as target practice. Uther had treated all the threats as a joke when Arthur had asked about them later, although Gaius had not looked amused.

Gaius did not look at all amused this time either, but for a quite different reason. And Uther wasn’t shouting or cursing. He was uncharacteristically quiet and still, and looked very pale against the bedsheets. Arthur had never seen him like that. Somehow it didn’t look like his father any more.

Morgana had walked with him through the castle, Leon and Percival escorting them and hustling away anyone who stopped to stare. Arthur was partially hidden beneath the cloak he had worn when they’d gone out riding, but it was broad daylight and word had got out that the elusive prince was out of his tower. It was only human nature to stare.

Arthur stood beside the bed, not sure what he should do. Uther had become almost a stranger in recent years, but as a boy Arthur had been constantly trying to earn his approval. He’d never thought that he’d succeeded, until the enchantment happened. Then, faced with Uther’s true disapproval, he realised that the distant and faint praise that he occasionally managed to acquire until that point was what passed in his father’s mind as pride.

Now there was no time to make up for any of that.

“He was asking for you,” Gaius told him quietly.

Morgana had told him as much when she came to find him. She was standing beside him now, holding his hand supportively. Lord Agravaine was standing in the corner, holding a silent vigil. For some reason it reminded Arthur of a crow, biding its time, waiting for its victim to die.

“Does Gaius have any idea what caused this?” he whispered to Morgana.

Morgana wasn’t as powerful as Merlin. She didn’t have the ability to act as a conduit, and at any rate would probably not have taken kindly to being handled by anyone who wished to speak to Arthur.

“Gaius,” she said quietly. “Do you know yet what caused this?”

Agravaine was definitely watching them. He straightened up, interested. Arthur hoped that it was because of the question and not because he’d noticed what Morgana had done.

“It appears to be his heart, my lady. And yet the symptoms are not quite as they should be.”

“Why, whatever do you mean?” Agravaine had moved very quickly, Arthur thought. His uncle’s face was a mask of concern. “Are you suspecting foul play?”

“The king has many enemies,” Gaius said carefully. “It would not be so very shocking.”

“I disagree.” Agravaine looked to Arthur, then away. Arthur didn’t miss the slight dismissiveness in the action. “We should investigate. It may be that people are still under the impression that the succession is weak, that there is some chance to take the crown. I will speak to Monmouth, see about an official announcement of the regency until Uther is restored to good health.”

“He will not be restored to good health,” Gaius pointed out. “It is highly unlikely, given his present condition, that he will even regain consciousness.”

Arthur heard the little gasp that Morgana couldn’t help making, and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She just looked at him, and he could see the concern in her face. He hadn’t thought she was particularly fond of Uther, but then this was something else. And, he considered a moment later, it put both of them in a precarious position. There was nothing that could be done about the regency, Uther had already signed the relevant papers making it official. He knew that Morgana had refused Agravaine, she had sat in his rooms telling him about it. She’d also been telling him about the horrible dreams that she’d had, of fires and burning, and a dark shadow rising up from the throne and smothering the land. There were other things, he felt, things that she wasn’t telling him, but when he asked she had denied it. She was safe enough at the moment, whilst she was under Uther’s protection, but once Uther was gone Arthur was going to struggle to fulfil that role. Judging by the look that Agravaine gave her, there would be little chance of a further offer. If only their father hadn’t taken ill so very suddenly.

“You’re saying he’s going to die?” Arthur asked. Gaius, of course, couldn’t understand him. But Morgana could, and she made a small noise in reaction. Fortunately she seemed to recall that they were not alone, and didn’t actually reply to him. But Agravaine had noticed.

“You have quite a connection to your brother, don’t you my dear?”

Gaius looked at them both sharply. He was aware of what Morgana had done, and given them both many warnings to be careful.

“They are siblings, it’s hardly unusual. Their father is dying, perhaps you should give them some privacy?”

“I am Arthur’s uncle, and the regent until a way is found to break the enchantment over my unfortunate nephew. It would be improper of me to leave at this time.”

“Don’t react to this,” Arthur warned. “But I think he’s probably staying because he’s worried Gaius will find that he’s poisoned our father.”

Morgana paled slightly, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze, but betrayed nothing more.

“We should make plans to leave Camelot.”

Again there was the gentle squeeze, just once.

“Gaius and Gwen probably won’t be safe here and should leave with us. Ask Leon as well, as soon as you can. We’ll find Merlin, hope that he’s found a way to free me of this, and then we’ll take Camelot back.”

Agravaine was staring at him, fascinated. “I wonder what the poor boy is saying. It is quite sad, he was so like my dear sister when he was younger. Nothing like her at all now. You’d never know that he was her son.”

“Well he is,” Morgana snapped. “And the rightful heir.”

“Of course,” Agravaine inclined his head in a gesture that might almost have been taken as being respectful. “And the people will follow him.”

Uther’s breathing had started to change. It had grown shallower, more of a wheezing gasp than anything. Gaius leaned over him, Arthur couldn’t see what he was doing but when the physician straightened up he turned to Arthur with a resigned expression.

“I’m sorry. There’s nothing to be done when it gets to this stage. This may go on for a little while. Perhaps you should leave now.”

“We’re staying,” Arthur insisted and Morgana agreed.

“Of course we are.”

Gaius looked a little startled, but nobody else said anything. She had, Arthur realised, answered him. And Agravaine was suddenly smiling, as if he’d been given a huge gift.

There was nothing they could do. Arthur needed to stay, and it was probably better if they didn’t split up.

Uther was never a patient man, and didn’t wait around. He was dead within the hour.

Suddenly Arthur was reminded of that other time again, when he was a boy. The room was full of people rushing to and fro, and he was standing back, ignored, watching his father in the bed. Only this time Morgana was with him. Neither of them cried. That wasn’t the way that Uther had raised them.

“We should go now,” Morgana whispered.

Geoffrey of Monmouth had appeared with scrolls and quills, and was talking to Agravaine, low and quiet. They spread one of the scrolls out on a desk, only feet away from Uther’s corpse. Monmouth was at least glancing at it with concern, but Agravaine clearly only had one interest now.

“That must be the declaration of regency,” Arthur guessed. “He’s effectively king now. You and I are in the way.”

Morgana nodded and they started to walk towards the door. Leon was there, having waited outside as their self-appointed guard. There was more sympathy on his face than Arthur had seen from his so-called uncle, Arthur thought bitterly.

“Arthur, my lady… I’m so very sorry.”

Whatever else he might have said was lost, as Agravaine’s voice rang out loud and clear across the room.

“Stop them!”

Sir Kay, and a knight that Arthur didn’t recognise immediately stepped forward, barring the way.

“What are you doing?” Leon protested, pushing his way through. Kay glared at him, but made no attempt to stop him. “What’s happening?”

Agravaine strode forward, Monmouth at his heels.

“Sire, Arthur is still the crown prince,” Monmouth warned. “By the terms of the regency, he is now effectively the king.”

“Indeed he is,” Agravaine agreed. “And we will search the five kingdoms for him. But this,” he pointed at Arthur. “This _creature_ is an imposter. It is clearly not my dear nephew.”

“Of course he is,” Morgana gasped. “You evil little troll, you know he is.”

“And _this_ ,” Agravaine continued, as if she hadn’t spoken at all. “Is the witch responsible! Did you not see how it speaks to her, how she understands it? She was probably in league with that sorcerer.” He looked around. “Where is the physician? The one who was harbouring the sorcerer?”

Gaius was dragged from Uther’s bedside, and stood glaring at Agravaine. “What is this nonsense? I’ve treated Arthur since the day he was enchanted. Of course this is Arthur. And the princess Morgana is no more a witch than you are.”

Agravaine looked around, and Arthur’s heart sank. Gaius had just played right into his hands.

“Indeed you have been the only one to treat him, or whatever it is that you’ve been doing. And you have allowed this deception to continue, as well as being the one trusted to care for the king in his final illness. Arrest all three of them. We will of course investigate and find the truth, but that will be easier with the witch and her familiar locked away.”

Leon started to draw his sword. “You can’t do this.”

“Morgana, stop him!” Arthur hissed, at the same time shaking his head at Leon. Other knights were starting to appear, doubtless Kay had summoned them to back him up as soon as Uther had died. They looked surprised to see Leon’s stance, but Arthur doubted they would take his side.

“Leon, don’t,” Morgana urged. “This won’t help, you’ll only get yourself arrested too, or worse. Please.”

“My lady, I can’t allow this injustice.” Leon stood firmly in front of them, grimly holding his sword. “Arthur is the rightful king, and you are no witch.”

“Another victim ensorcelled,” Agravaine pointed out. “Take him down with care, he’s one of your own and doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

That seemed to make up the minds of the newcomers and with a sinking heart Arthur saw them stand strong beside Kay. Leon was good, but he wasn’t going to be able to take all of them. If Arthur had been restored then the two of them might have stood a chance. But it was one against many, and Leon would go down.

“Live to fight another day,” Arthur urged, and Morgana repeated it. When that still didn’t work, she leaned forward and whispered something in Leon’s ear.

Whatever she said was something he resisted for a few moments, but then reluctantly Leon stood down. Arthur could see how much it cost him to do so, but they needed him alive and free if they were ever going to get out of this and Leon seemed to recognise that as well. Kay took his sword away as roughly as he could, then looked to Agravaine expectantly.

“Have him cool his head in the dungeons for a few days. Take them all away.” Agravaine turned his back on them, talking to Monmouth once more. “There is much to do. We have a great king to bury. Then we must prepare for a small ceremony to finalise my regency. Have men start a search for my nephew, as obviously we need to return him to Camelot and his rightful place as soon as possible. And there will need to be a trial. I would like to send for my own physician at once, to check that the king was not poisoned in any way.” He shook his head sadly. “If only I had thought of it sooner. But Uther had such faith in Gaius.”

Monmouth glanced back at them worriedly. But he was the sort of man who followed the rightful king, bound the laws in his own books. He clearly had no idea what to do for the best. There would be many like him, afraid to act. And that was how Agravaine would hold the throne.

“I should have kept my sword and run them all through,” Leon spat bitterly.

“They would have killed you,” Morgana told him. Leon looked as if he wouldn’t have cared.

Arthur knew how he felt. If they were unable to find a way out then the death they would face would have no honour. It wasn’t a knight’s death. He thought of the visions Morgana had been telling him about, and how disturbed Merlin had been by the burnings. Suddenly faced with it, they seemed even more horrific.

As they were led away, he looked back one last time to his father and wondered how such a strong king could get things so very, very wrong.

 

 

It took days for Merlin, Gwaine and Lancelot to get back to Camelot. Even with the druids’ help and Merlin’s magic guiding them, it was still far longer than they would have liked.

Finally they saw the familiar turrets rising over the trees.

“Home,” Lancelot declared. Merlin knew he was thinking of Gwen. He’d not complained once at being banished and separated from her, but it had to have been difficult. For his own part he was simply concerned about Arthur, particularly after they had passed some travellers the previous day who had given them the news that Uther had died. Merlin had not wanted to stop that night, and Gwaine had almost had to pull him from his exhausted horse.

They paused at the entrance to the lower town, dismounting to lead their horses. It seemed quieter than normal, almost deserted.

“Do you think we’re still wanted men?” Lancelot whispered. “If Uther is dead, does that clear our names?”

Gwaine shrugged. “We’ll soon find out. It depends who’s taken the throne.”

The travellers hadn’t known anything more, not having come from Camelot themselves. There had been mention of a regent, but they weren’t certain.

“If Princess Morgana is regent, all will be well,” Lancelot declared.

It would, Merlin thought. But they would still have to face the near-impossible task of restoring Arthur. He’d talked about it with the two knights and although they all had ideas there was nothing that was clearly going to work, not without alerting Arthur and making it impossible for any such act to be completely selfless. The irony of it all was that, had Arthur been allowed to lead his knights for all those years, given his nature he would have long since selflessly thrown himself into the path of danger for any one of them.

There was a woman sitting in the doorway of one of the hovels, stitching up a tunic. Gwaine called to her and she looked up.

“Ma’am,” Gwaine gave a little bow, then dived straight in without too much concern about any further pleasantries. “Where is everyone? We’ve been riding for days, came back as soon as we heard about the king. Have we missed the funeral?”

The woman came over. “That was two days back.”

“Is Arthur king now?” Merlin asked, though he had little hope of it being the case.

“Arthur? Oh no, nobody knows where Arthur is. Lord Agravaine has been made regent until they find the missing prince.”

“Arthur’s gone missing?” Merlin asked, his heart in his mouth. “When? What happened?”

“Spirited away by witchcraft, or so they say. They’ve got Princess Morgana on trial for it.”

Gwaine glanced at Merlin, the shock plainly evident on his face.

“They found a creature in the tower where the prince was supposed to be,” the woman continued. “It’s said that the princess could communicate with it when nobody else could manage it. It’s some beast that speaks in tongues and is foul to look upon. That’s where everyone has gone. The trial is today and my husband says they’ll all burn for it.”

“Didn’t you want to see it too?” Merlin asked bitterly. “It sounds such a great spectacle.”

She looked at him in disgust. “King Uther burned my sister. Said she was a witch. Princess Morgana has always been kind, sending her maid down with food when people need it, helping sometimes when people are sick. She’s no more witch than my sister was. But that doesn’t matter, not to these Pendragon kings. When they find the prince, he’ll be no better.”

“Arthur would never…” Merlin began, but Lancelot stepped in quickly.

“Thank you for your time, ma’am,” he said, gripping Merlin’s arm and firmly guiding him away. Taking the hint, Merlin let himself be led. They walked on, faster.

“This changes things.” Gwaine pointed out unnecessarily. “We need to break them out.”

“She said they’ll _all_ burn,” Lancelot mused. “That’s not just Arthur and Morgana. There are others.”

“We need to find Gaius,” Merlin decided. “We can’t go in like this, once we reach the castle any one of us could be recognised immediately.”

“We’ll find Gwen’s home,” Lancelot told them. “It’s closer. She may still have her father’s clothes, we can borrow those, or she can fetch some from the castle. She could call Leon and Percival, they’ll know what’s going on.”

It was a good idea, but Merlin suspected it was largely due to Lancelot’s need to find out whether she was one of those being put on trial. Merlin wanted to find Gaius for the same reason, though really none of it mattered if Arthur’s life was in danger.

The little hovel where Gwen lived still adjoined the blacksmiths and was in what was normally a fairly busy part of the town. But that street was as quiet as any other when they led their horses up and tethered them outside. At least nobody would question horses outside a blacksmiths, Merlin thought. People stopped there mistakenly all the time.

Lancelot knocked and called out to Gwen, but there was no reply. When he pushed the door gently, it swung open.

They went in, cautiously. Everything looked much as it always did, Gwen kept the place clean and tidy.

“Gwen?” Lancelot called again. “Gwen?”

“Lancelot?” Gwen suddenly rushed out from her hiding place, and flung herself at him. “Thank goodness! I thought it was Agravaine’s men come to arrest me too!”

“What’s happened?” Merlin demanded. “We know Morgana and Arthur are on trial.”

“Gaius too,” Gwen told him sadly. “Lord Agravaine claimed he was part of it too.”

“Gaius would never harm anyone!” Lancelot exclaimed.

“You’ve obviously never been subjected to his hangover cure,” Gwaine retorted. Then he must have noticed Merlin’s distressed expression. “Sorry.”

“They’ve thrown Leon in the cells as well because he tried to stop them being arrested,” Gwen continued. “Agravaine said it was just for a few days, but I managed to get in to see them and they’re all sure he’ll execute Leon as well.”

Gwaine cursed, running his hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture. “We should never have left. What about Percival?”

“He’s managed to stay out of it so far, but he’s known to be Leon’s right hand man, especially since you two left.   It’s only a matter of time before Agravaine finds an excuse to arrest him too. He went out searching for you when it first happened, but there was no sign. He’s not allowed near the dungeons, he’s being watched all the time.”

“Has Arthur been harmed?” Merlin asked urgently. “When you saw them, had any of them been mis-treated?”

“Even Lord Agravaine wouldn’t dare harm the rightful king before this mockery of a trial,” Gwen told him bitterly. “But Leon put up a fight and it shows.”

“He’s not badly hurt?” Merlin checked. He liked the loyal, honest knight.

“Just cuts and bruises,” Gwen confirmed. “I had a chance to speak to him when I went in. Once the trial starts, Percival is going to break Leon out while everyone is distracted. Then the plan was that pair of them would try to rescue Morgana, Arthur and Gaius before Agravaine has them executed. I was about to ready the horses when you arrived.”

“Forget about that. You’ll stay here, hidden, where it’s safe,” Lancelot insisted. Gwen glared at him.

“I’m not hiding away while Morgana is in danger! She’s always been good to me. I’m not going to give up on her.”

“None of us are,” Gwaine assured her before Lancelot could argue further. The other knight did not look happy. “But forget about the horses, we’ll stand or fall at that trial. There’ll be too big a crowd to get away.”

“So she stays here,” Lancelot put in.

“Go to the trial. Take whatever weapons you can hide on you. We might need them.”

“No!”

If the circumstances had been different, Merlin might have been amused at the way both Gwen and Gwaine determinedly ignored Lancelot’s protest. In some ways he was right, it would be a dangerous thing to do, but having the spare weapons that the others could wield might prove invaluable if it came down to it.

“You can rely on me,” Gwen assured them.

“I see why you like her!” Gwaine grinned briefly at Lancelot, who looked as though he might hit him. “Is Percival heading for the dungeons now?”

“He should be,” Gwen said.

“Good. He won’t be alone. We’ll help him free Leon, and then it’ll be a fair fight.”

“Four of you and Merlin against all Camelot’s knights?” Gwen wondered. “That’s hardly fair odds.”

“True.” Gwaine flicked back his hair and grinned at them. “But we’ll give them a head start! That’ll even it up a bit!”

 

 

Arthur was born to be king.

When he was growing up, it had been a constant refrain from his father. _When you are king_ … all the things that Arthur would be expected to do, everything that he was expected to be.

He had never been expected to stand in the throne room with his uncle sitting in judgement on him, his sister and one of his father’s most loyal advisors. Agravaine (and Arthur would never, _ever_ think of him as _King_ Agravaine) was sitting on Uther’s throne glaring down at them. He looked out of place, the crown didn’t quite fit him and the throne was built for a man with a more dominant bearing. Still, he held the position, and none seemed willing to take it away from him.

The room was packed, as was the courtyard beyond. They had been led across it from the dungeons, Kay shouting at the townspeople to get out of their way. Morgana had held her head high as she walked, and he’d heard several people whisper blessings as she passed. She was hot-headed and opinionated, but also known for her charity. People liked her. They liked Gaius too, he had helped far too many of them over the years and seeing him shuffling along in chains would not be a welcome sight. The dungeons had been too cold, too damp for an old man. They would probably wonder who would help them next time they were taken ill. It was an unpopular thing that Agravaine was doing, but Arthur could understand his timing. Taking them out now, before there was any chance to rise up against his rule. It was a good strategy.

People whispered as Arthur passed as well, but there was no kindness there. His cloak had been taken, making sure that all could see the way his face drooped over on one side, the way his hands were curled up and his body hunched over. He could hear them call him a monster, a demon, an imposter. It was everything he’d been protected from, locked up in the tower. Perhaps in some ways Uther had been kind after all. Yet if his father hadn’t hidden him away, if he had been more open about Arthur’s condition, then Agravaine wouldn’t have been able to make his accusations as easily. He wouldn’t have been able to bring them to this.

Once they had been led to stand in front of their accuser, Arthur let his gaze drift around the room. It was a sea of largely unfamiliar faces. There were a few of the knights that he recognised, though Percival was nowhere to be seen. And then there were some of his father’s advisors, Monmouth being the one that looked the most ill at ease, though he was doing nothing to prevent what was happening. Mostly though, the crowd consisted of people he’d never seen before. People who would stand around later and watch them die, a curiosity to behold.

Agravaine cleared his throat and then addressed them.

“Morgana Pendragon, you…”

“Gorlois,” she hissed. “Morgana Gorlois.”

Agravaine gave a small smile. “As you will. Morgana _Gorlois_ , bastard daughter of Uther Pendragon.”

“Don’t,” Arthur whispered to her. “He wants to goad you.”

“I’d like to gut him,” she hissed back, but she didn’t protest Agravaine’s insult.

“You stand accused of practicing witchcraft within the walls of Camelot, against its greatest law. Along with your mentor, and your familiar, you are accused of murdering our king and seeking…”

“I didn’t murder Uther,” Morgana snarled. “You poisoned him and now you’re poisoning everyone here with your lies! Gaius is only on trial because you feared he’d see what you’d done to the king and reveal it to the world!”

“These lies spring from desperation,” Agravaine announced smoothly. The smile he gave his audience did not reach his eyes. To Arthur, seeing his uncle for what he was, it looked very fake. “See how the witch grasps at any falsehood in order to save herself?”

“Gaius is a good man, how many people here are only still alive because of him?” Morgana continued. “How many will die if you condemn him just to save your own pathetic hide? I didn’t think…”

“Silence her!” Agravaine ordered.

“…there could be a more misguided king than Uther, but you’ve already proved that wrong!” She gasped the last word, as Kay held his blade to her throat.

“One more word that isn’t in response to one of the king’s questions, and it will be your last,” Kay warned. He glanced at Arthur, then away. Arthur didn’t miss the gleam of triumph in his eyes, and doubted that there would be any problem finding a knight willing to carry out the executions.

Morgana was trembling, but it was with rage rather than fear. At her side, Gaius stood with his head bowed. He had probably always known that this day would come eventually, Arthur realised. He’d perhaps always thought it would be under Uther, but he was wrong.

The king’s funeral pyre had been lit without either of his children present. Being deprived of the chance to say goodbye properly was something Arthur would never, ever forgive Agravaine for. If somehow they survived this, his father’s killer would pay dearly. Arthur should have presided over that funeral, ensured his father had the dignity a great king deserved, whatever their differences may have been.

The trial was, of course, a complete farce. Agravaine had what he called witnesses, but they were simply people who could be bought or, as in Kay’s case, had a grudge against one of them. Arthur wondered that anyone who called himself a knight could fail to rise above something so petty after all the time that had passed. But no. And there were others, a serving girl he’d never seen before who stood there trembling and claiming that he’d assaulted her. Edward, who used the opportunity to point out that Arthur’s servant had been a sorcerer, and that they’d probably been in league with each other. George, who looked thoroughly miserable at being put on the spot, but confessed that he’d heard Morgana talking to Arthur and clearly being able to understand his responses. George at least referred to him as Arthur, and refused to believe that he wasn’t the prince. Arthur supposed he’d be punished for that by Edward later. Edward, who appeared to have already taken up the job of manservant to the man who seemed to think he was now the king.

The accusations went on for a long time. Husbands, wives, parents or children of people that Gaius had failed to save spoke up and talked of their suspicions. Gaius himself answered each of them, pointing out the reason their loved one did not survive, and that if they had then that would surely have been sorcery.

Agravaine did not allow Morgana to speak again. Instead, at the end of the accusations, he turned to Arthur.

“If you are indeed Prince Arthur…”

“ _King_ Arthur,” someone far back in the crowd shouted. Arthur couldn’t see who it was, but the voice sounded angry. People laughed, thinking it was a joke.

“Ah yes, of course. _King_ Arthur, you would be now. If you are indeed he, then please let yourself be known. Speak to your people.”

Arthur remained silent. He knew that opening his mouth would be playing right into Agravaine’s hands.

“No word? And yet we are expected to believe that you would be our king? Please, speak.”

Arthur looked at Morgana, who shook her head sadly. There was no point.

“See how he looks to her. He is clearly the witch’s beast and in her thrall. I have no choice but to find you all guilty of sorcery and sentence you to death by burning, as is the law of Camelot.”

“I wish that I had the level of power you claim,” Morgana spat at him. “I’d blast you where you stand, you little worm!”

Agravaine gave her a tight little smile. “Carry out the sentence immediately.”

“You won’t last long on the throne, Agravaine!” Morgana snarled. Kay’s blade was a quicker death than fire, Arthur supposed, and a useless threat now when they were about to be killed anyway. “It’s meant for a stronger man than you. You’ll be dead within the year!”

“And you’ll be dead before sundown,” he replied coldly. “Sir Kay, remove them.”

Down at the back of the hall there was a commotion, people pushing and shouting, but Arthur couldn’t see what was causing it. He could hear voices back there protesting at the sentence, the clash of metal meeting metal, and wondered if Percival had indeed freed Leon. It had seemed such a risky plan when Gwen had whispered it to them in the cells. There was so little chance that they would actually get away. A small chance was better than no chance, apparently.

Arthur fought to free himself with renewed effort, spurred on by such loyalty no matter how hopeless it might be. He struggled as Kay and several of the other knights started to drag him out. Behind him, Morgana was fighting for all she was worth. Their hands had been bound before they were led out of the dungeons, making it even more difficult to battle their captors. Gaius was going quietly, with dignity. But Arthur thought _to hell with dignity_ , and elbowed the nearest guard in the ribs. There was a scuffle and he was shoved to the floor.

Someone dropped down beside him, apparently pushed over by the crowd and the commotion. They were only there for a moment, he felt a dagger pressed into his hand, and then the person was gone. When he looked up, just for a moment he saw Gwen’s worried face looking down at him, and then she was swallowed up by the crowd again. He tried to angle the dagger so that he could cut through his bonds, but with his fingers so curled and useless it was impossible. Any moment someone would notice it was there.

“Stop!”

The voice was commanding, and oddly familiar. Momentarily everyone froze, but when Arthur looked around all he saw was an old bearded man with a staff, wearing stained and worn robes, his long white hair trailing down past his shoulders. He was pushing his way to the front of the crowd. The staff was being used to rap anyone who didn’t get out of the way, and few seemed to want to risk it more than once.

“Who are you?” Agravaine snapped. “How dare you interrupt the royal court.”

The old man was not alone, Arthur realised. There were four men flanking him… Percival still in the guise of a Camelot knight, Leon bruised and battered in a bloodied undershirt, and two others that he hadn’t expected, heavily disguised and half-covered by hoods. He could see enough of them to recognise Gwaine and Lancelot. There was no sign of Merlin.

“This is no royal court,” the old man told them. “You would kill the royal physician, someone who has only ever served Camelot, has only ever helped its people survive? You would kill Princess Morgana? You would kill the one true _king_?” He turned to look directly at Arthur.

It wasn’t the voice that gave him away, although Arthur recognised it now. It was the eyes, the blue eyes that he’d seen gazing at him adoringly so many times.

“Merlin?”

Merlin gave a brief, almost imperceptible nod, then continued.

“You, Agravaine, would kill the rightful king, as you have already murdered his father. And, in falsely accusing this woman of being a witch, would wipe out the entire Pendragon line.”

“Seize him!” Agravaine ordered. Two guards immediately stepped forward but Merlin gave what seemed to be just a wave of his hand, and they were flung backwards.

“He’s a sorcerer!” Agravaine yelled, scrambling as far from Merlin as he could get. Arthur wondered if he was going to actually hide behind the throne. “Kill him! Kill them all!”

Arthur took his chance and struggled to his feet, elbowing aside a guard who made an attempt to stop him, and staggering over to Merlin’s side, holding his bound hands in front of him. He felt something pass over his skin, just faintly, like a caress. The ropes unravelled and he was able to shake his hands free. They were still bent and twisted over, so there was no chance of gripping the dagger Gwen had given him with any great strength, but at least he no longer felt completely trapped and helpless.

“What kept you?” he grinned.

“Always so impatient,” Merlin tutted but he gave Arthur a small smile. It was strange seeing it there in the aged face, but nonetheless reassuring.

Leon and Percival had freed Morgana, who stood rubbing her wrists and glaring furiously at Agravaine. Lancelot had retrieved Gaius. Gwaine was watching Merlin’s back, ensuring nobody made a sneaky attack. He had stepped over to cover Arthur as well. They were still only eight, and the room was filling with more knights and guards, pushing the nobles and servants further back. Agravaine started to look a little more confident again. He didn’t move any closer to them, but stood straighter.

“Leave. The crown of Camelot is not yours to take, Agravaine,” Merlin demanded. “It belongs to Arthur. Leave now, and you will not be harmed.”

Agravaine narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “That is not Arthur. And Morgana has proved herself to be a witch. I do not answer to you. The guilty verdict stands.”

“They’ve done nothing wrong,” Merlin insisted.

“Oh, I think you’ll find that sorcery is illegal in Camelot,” Agravaine told him. “And that you are vastly outnumbered, old man.”

“Really? I think _you’ll_ find that the true king intends making it legal. And that just one of me is more than enough,” Merlin told him. Arthur stared as he murmured words in an unfamiliar tongue. He’d heard Merlin cast spells before, but didn’t think he’d ever get used to it. And this was a bigger spell, more powerful. Merlin’s eyes gleamed gold and then suddenly he was standing in too-big robes, young again.

“You!” That was from Edward, whom Arthur had forgotten was there.

Morgana looked delighted. “Oh Merlin, you _must_ teach me that one!” Evidently now that the truth was out in the open, Morgana was never going to hide away ever again. Assuming that they got out of this. Though given what Merlin had just done, Arthur supposed defeating a few knights would be nothing.

“An interesting trick for a serving boy,” Agravaine acknowledged. He’d taken a step back again, Arthur noted.

Merlin shrugged. “Uther has already condemned me as a sorcerer, I have nothing to hide. One last chance, Agravaine. You and your allies can leave,” he looked pointedly at Kay and Edward in particular. “Anyone who remains must be loyal to the one true king.”

Kay looked to Agravaine. “He’s just a boy. We can take him.”

Agravaine had evidently encountered magic before, as he wasn’t as eager as Kay to come into conflict. He was the sort of man who talked his way out of things, Arthur realised. It was how he’d succeeded in obtaining the crown. “Indeed. Come now, boy, Arthur can never be king, look at him. The enchantment has left him deformed. He can’t even speak.”

There was a low murmur across the room. Arthur could hear his name running through the conversations. Agravaine had just condemned himself.

“So you admit that you know this is Prince Arthur?” Monmouth asked carefully. “Not some creature that the Princess Morgana or…” he looked at Merlin. “Anyone _else_ might have summoned?”

“Of course he knew this was Arthur!” Gaius snapped. “Why on earth do you think he wanted us all killed so quickly? Honestly, Geoffrey, for an intelligent man sometimes you can be such a fool! He poisoned Uther and would have murdered his children too. Not to mention _me_. Don’t think I’m feeling particularly happy about that part of it either.”

Monmouth shuffled uncomfortably. “If there were just some way to prove it beyond doubt…”

“Well there is,” Leon pointed out. “Take Merlin’s hand. Ask Arthur something only Arthur could possibly know.” He saw Monmouth’s hesitation, and added. “I know it’s strange. The first time I did it, I just wanted to run, deny I’d heard anything. It’s sorcery, there’s no question. But Merlin understands every word Arthur says, and somehow, through him, we can understand him too.” He looked back at Arthur. “It gave me my friend back. My king now. Do it. And then tell me you don’t believe it’s him.”

“That’s nonsense,” Agravaine spluttered as Monmouth started to walk towards Merlin and Arthur. “It’s sorcery, the warlock will make you hear whatever he makes up.” He made a few hesitant steps to follow Monmouth, but stopped a couple of feet away.

“Something only he would know,” Leon reminded the older man gently as he stood in front of them. Monmouth nodded, and took Merlin’s offered hand.

“When Arthur was a child, I found him hiding in the library. It was unusual because Arthur was never one for books. He told me what he was hiding from and made me promise not to tell.”

It had to be that, of course. And Morgana would hear the reply. Arthur sighed. “You could have chosen anything else.” He saw Monmouth’s reaction to hearing him for the first time, and continued. “It was when Morgana first came to live here. I didn’t like the attention she was getting so I stole her favourite doll. I only meant to hide it but somehow it fell in the fire. Father was furious. He thought someone was practicing witchcraft and trying to curse Morgana.” He looked at Morgana apologetically. “Sorry! It was an accident.”

“Like I didn’t know it was you,” Morgana smiled. He doubted that would be the end of it.

“You gave me a long lecture about how Morgana was an orphan and I should be kind to her. And got one of the servants to bring down some milk and honeycakes for me.”

“I did.” Monmouth bowed his head, and, with some difficulty probably due to age and gout or the like, dropped to his knees. “Forgive me for my part in this. You are indeed Arthur, and the rightful king.”

Merlin grinned at Arthur triumphantly, his face shining with delight. All around them people were either looking relieved, confused or in some cases worried or even frightened. For the most part it was confusion. Edward was carefully making his way towards the nearest exit. Percival had moved to stand guard over Kay, just in case he tried anything. Agravaine looked pale, drawn, and was starting to edge around the group. Arthur watched him, wary of another trick. There were too many people in the crowd for his uncle to make a clean exit that way and Arthur wasn’t quite sure what Agravaine hoped to accomplish.

George was staring at Merlin in something like wonder. “So if we touch your hand, we can understand the pri… the king?” he ventured.

Merlin nodded, and offered his hand.

It happened ridiculously fast, and if Arthur hadn’t been watching him so closely then he would never have seen Agravaine move. He was faster than he looked, swift with a dagger that nobody had yet thought to check him for. For a moment Arthur thought he was the target, and then he realised Merlin was distracted by the opportunity to show off to his manservant mentor and was unguarded, and that he’d not even noticed the danger. There was no time to do anything other than throw himself at Merlin, pushing him out of the way of the blade that had been heading straight for his lover’s heart, the blade slicing into Arthur instead as he stumbled after Merlin.  

The cut must have been deep. The pain radiated out from his shoulder where the knife had gone in, spreading right across his body. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought that wasn’t quite right, that it shouldn’t hurt so much everywhere, right down his back, into his arms, his legs…

There was a cry and a thud from somewhere nearby that he barely registered. Merlin had scrambled up onto his knees, leaning over him, gold fading from his eyes.

“Arthur? Oh gods… Gaius! Quickly!”

“What’s happening to him?” That was Morgana’s voice. She sounded frightened. Morgana shouldn’t ever sound frightened. He curled in on himself, trying to find a way to stop it hurting.

He could hear people calling his name, Leon shouting that they should clear the room. His body felt as if it was being pulled apart. It hadn’t hurt like that since…

He lifted up his hand to look at it. It felt as if it were on fire. But it wasn’t. The skin was pink and smooth and he could flex his hand, open his fingers. Even as he watched it was straightening out further, healing.

“The curse…” He looked up at Merlin, trying not to wince as another spasm hit. He could cope with the pain, if it meant what he thought it did. “It’s broken.”

Merlin just nodded.

“Are you _crying_? You are!” Arthur gasped. Even his throat was hurting, his voice sounded different as he choked out the next sentence. “Merlin, you _girl!_ ”

“And _that_ is the first thing we hear from you without Merlin’s help in five years, Sire,” Gaius tutted, but he was smiling. At least he wasn’t crying too, Arthur thought. That would really be too much. “Try to lie still, until the process finishes. You have a shallow cut to your shoulder, nothing to worry about. We’ll soon have that cleaned up.”

The cut brought back other memories. “Agravaine,” he growled. “Where is he?” He looked around for his knights. “Leon?”

It was Gwaine who crouched down to reassure him. “Lancelot and Leon have captured him. I don’t think Leon appreciated his time in the dungeons, he’s not going to let that one go.”

“Neither am I. Agravaine murdered my father, and he’ll pay for what he’s done.” Arthur looked back to Gaius. “I think it’s stopped. Can I stand?”

“Carefully,” Gaius warned. “Most likely the transformation will have weakened your muscles, as it did before. It will probably take some time to regain your strength.”

Leaning heavily on Gwaine and Merlin, Arthur got shakily to his feet. Gaius was right, but he was determined not to be beaten by it, and at any rate it wasn’t as debilitating as it had been the first time. There was a birthright to claim, and a kingdom that he needed to demonstrate that he was fit to rule.    

He could hear the murmurs and exclamations from the people gathered in the hall as they jostled for sight of him.

“Get me to the throne before I fall over,” he whispered.

Gwaine laughed at that, but did as he was bid. It was a struggle to get him up the few small steps but they managed it. Gwaine stood behind him, keeping one hand firmly on Arthur’s good shoulder, making sure he didn’t slump forwards. Merlin stood on the other side, watching the crowd. And then Arthur could face the room, elevated slightly above them all so that as many as possible could see him. He could have done without the blood, without the need for Gwaine to be holding him up, without the torn and filthy clothes from too many nights in the cells. But he’d risen above worse.

“Morgana.” He gestured towards the empty chair beside him, the one that he had used until his father had hidden him away. “Yours now.”

It was the heir’s seat, because the next generation of their family would be from her bloodline, not his. He glanced up at the reason for that. Merlin was still watching the room intently though the danger was largely done with. Perhaps Morgana had sat there over the years anyway. He didn’t know and didn’t care. The important thing now was to re-establish the Pendragons as rulers of Camelot, and to start to build the Albion that Merlin believed he would. He’d probably have to do something about that dragon sooner rather than later as well.

Morgana looked far too smug as she sat down. “I’ll want a very attractive coronet,” she whispered. “Something exquisite, to make up for that doll.”

“Whatever you want,” he promised.

Leon, unbidden, brought Agravaine forward. He was not gentle as he forced the man to his knees.

“Sire,” Leon bowed his head deeper than perhaps was necessary, but then they needed to make a point. “What would you have me do with the prisoner?”

“We’ll lock him in the dungeons for now. There will be a fair trial, though there is no question of his guilt. Uncle,” he leaned forward slightly, then regretted it and was glad of Gwaine’s firm hand helping him back. But his strength was returning, he could feel it. “Why? My mother was your sister. You claimed to love her. Why would you do this?”

Agravaine gazed at him with hate-filled eyes. “You look like her, but you sit there every inch your father’s son. Your father wanted you so much that he let my sister die so that he could have the son he wanted. He called a witch, had her cast a spell. A life for a life. He thought it was worth it.”

“Untrue,” Gaius put in. “Sire, your father loved Ygraine dearly and would never have knowingly risked her life. He had no idea what the spell would do. He was tricked by the sorceress. We’ve all suffered from his grief ever since.”

“You seem to have managed all right,” Agravaine pointed out. “Any number of sorcerers have been glad to make attempts on Uther’s life. Some didn’t even need to be paid. He was the target for the curse that hit you. And in gratitude he locked you away for years. You’d condemn me for killing someone like that?”

Arthur felt Merlin tense beside him. “You sent the sorcerer who cursed Arthur?” Arthur could see his fingers twitching. He wondered what it would take before Merlin lost his temper and used his magic to hurt Agravaine. Not much more, he guessed.

“Who could have guessed that Arthur would end up with his own pet warlock? Yes, I did.” Agravaine looked to Arthur again. “Of course it was never meant for Arthur. He wanted to reverse the spell, you know, the one who did this to you. The one who cast the spell has the power to do that. He would have gone back, if I’d let him. Apparently there are prophecies amongst his people about you. But you killed her when you were born, you’re as guilty as Uther was. Ygraine should have lived.”

“He was just a babe,” Gaius hissed. “Don’t listen to him, Arthur.”

Gaius, by the sound of it, knew far more about what had happened to Ygraine than he had ever let on. Arthur was going to have a long talk with him in the near future. But he knew that up there, after all that had passed, he had to appear strong and confident in front of what were now his subjects. Monmouth had retrieved the crown and was holding it gingerly, probably unsure what his position was now. Arthur decided to let him sweat a little longer. The man deserved it for being too weak. Instead he looked to Merlin, who was glaring at Agravaine. It was strange seeing his gentle manservant so furious.

“The words of a traitor and a regicide are worthless,” Arthur agreed.

“I know the spell,” Merlin breathed. “After we researched it for so long. I know it off by heart. I could cast it, Arthur. If you just say the word. He deserves it.”

Arthur watched Merlin’s long fingers clench and unclench almost reflexively. It was tempting, so very tempting. Agravaine had purposefully left him trapped like that, and would have killed him. But he wanted to be better than that, not to spend his reign in vengeance and hatred like his father had done. And he would not turn Merlin into that kind of warlock. Agravaine was staring up at them, starting to look a little afraid. Small wonder, because it was a fearful fate.

“Not today.” There was, after all, no harm in letting him fear it. “Gwaine.” With difficulty he looked back at the knight still supporting him. “You and Lancelot lock him up, and post guards you trust. Leon,” he nodded to the knight who had never ceased to stand beside him throughout everything, and who was the right person to stand beside him for what he had to do now. “Take Gwaine’s place.”

Leon glared at Agravaine with undisguised hatred, and Arthur wondered if he had been hoping for a little revenge for his own treatment as Agravaine’s prisoner.

There would be a trial, and then an execution, Arthur thought, as Agravaine was led away. Not a pleasant start to his reign or a good omen. He needed time to sit down with people he trusted and decide how to go about it. And there were others to deal with. Sir Kay, who had seized the opportunity to escape when Percival had been distracted by Agravaine’s attack on Merlin. If Kay had any sense he would have already left Camelot. Edward, Uther’s manservant might well turn out to have helped Agravaine, he had access to everything Uther ate. George, who had doubtless alerted Agravaine to Morgana’s powers, either first hand or via Edward, though Arthur suspected it was done more out of stupidity than anything else. Monmouth, whose only real crime was cowardice, though the warrior in Arthur could not help but feel that was a crime in itself. They needed his knowledge of the laws though, if they were to rewrite them. And he had helped, in the end. Monmouth would be his example of forgiveness, benevolence. It would be where he showed that he was not a monster.

“Monmouth. Approach.”

The man hesitantly stepped up to the throne. He still held the crown, the same ostentatious one that had been used to crown his father. Agravaine had worn it badly.

“Sire? I… am not a fighter.”

“As we have all seen.”

There was a ripple of laughter at that. It boded well, he was going to be accepted. He wished he wasn’t so tired. Once this was over, he was going to sleep for a week. He felt Leon’s hand, strong, reassuring and steady on his shoulder. Merlin was next to him, both of them loyal and protective.

“You should do what you _are_ good at, Monmouth.”

It did take the man a moment to realise what was being asked of him. He looked at the crown in his hands, then up at Arthur.

“Sire.”

Glancing very nervously at Merlin, Monmouth climbed up behind the throne, lifting the crown high.

“Will you solemnly promise and swear to govern the peoples of Camelot according to their respective laws and customs?”

“I solemnly swear so to do.”

“Will you to your power cause law and justice, in mercy, to…” Monmouth hesitated for a moment, then continued. “…be executed in all your judgements.”

It was unfortunate wording given what had almost happened, but it was the correct wording. His father had gone through this with him many times when he was younger, just in case of Uther’s sudden demise. He had been determined Arthur would know what to do. “I will.”

“Then by the sacred laws vested in me, I crown you Arthur, King of Camelot.”

Monmouth carefully placed the crown on Arthur’s head. It felt heavy, particularly in his weakened state, but he was determined not to show that.

Merlin dropped to his knees first, head up, never taking his eyes off Arthur. Those eyes were glowing. Not with the gold of his magic, but with the warmth of his pride and love.

“Long live the king!”

And the cry echoed down through the hall, out into the courtyard and far beyond.

 


	3. Epilogue

It was a crisp early spring morning, sunlight just starting to filter in through the drapes around the bed. Arthur was happy enough to stay where he was all day. It was cosy beneath the covers, and the bed was soft. And he had his lover’s warm body sprawled out beside him.

Arthur had seen the bed in Gaius’s quarters where Merlin used to sleep. It was narrow and cramped. Merlin could not possibly have fitted in it, not with the way he seemed to take up every inch of Arthur’s vast bed. It was lucky, really, that he would never have to sleep in his old bed again.

Merlin slept on. One arm was stretched out towards Arthur, gently resting across his stomach. Arthur knew that if he moved away then Merlin would probably move with him. He usually did, turning and reaching in his sleep and only settling again when the contact was restored. He would wake if Arthur actually got out of bed.   It wasn’t the first time Arthur had stayed there just watching Merlin, and he knew it wouldn’t be the last. It was Arthur’s secret, quiet indulgence. Soon enough Merlin would be awake, sleepy at first, then an exhausting bundle of nervous energy that wouldn’t settle again until they were once again lying together in that bed. But for now Arthur could just relax for a few moments more.

Merlin’s shock of sleep-tousled dark hair was dark against the pillow. Arthur reached over and gently ran his fingers through it. Merlin gave a little snuffle, and wriggled closer. Gently Arthur nudged him and Merlin nestled closer to Arthur. He didn't open his eyes, but Arthur could feel the change in Merlin's breathing as it ghosted over his chest, and knew he was awake now.

"Merlin," Arthur whispered. "Wake up."

Merlin snuggled closer. “Hush, I’m sleeping.”

"Merlin..." Arthur gently nudged him again. “Who’s the king?”

Merlin gave a low, contemptuous snort. “Some clotpole who thinks it’s a good idea to anger the official Court Sorcerer by failing to let him sleep in. Haven’t you heard how terrifying his fury can be?”

Arthur had heard. There were a number of his father’s ex-advisors who were horrified at Merlin’s very existence, never mind his elevated position at court. Gwaine, who seemed to hear every last whisper of gossip, probably because he started or was the cause of much of it, had warned him that there were even rumours that the king was still enchanted. It would take time to dispel them, and longer still for some people to get used to the new regime.

Morgana’s presence helped. He was not surprised at how well-regarded she was, having been on the receiving end of her kindness. Had their father ever discovered her magical abilities, Arthur shuddered to think what might have become of her. He’d mentioned this to Merlin one evening when they were alone. Merlin had smiled far too brightly at him and said that he shouldn’t think of it. He wondered what Merlin knew, what horror had been averted.

Still, Morgana could be difficult, and frequently was. Worse, Merlin often supported her. Only a few days before, the crown princess had argued far too strongly that female sorcerers (namely herself) should join the tiny band of defensive magic users that Merlin was starting to work with. Arthur had stood no chance of winning against the pair of them.

“He’s far less terrifying than he thinks he is,” Arthur assured him. “Look, he’s drooled on the pillow. Very frightening.”

Merlin glowered at him. It was quite endearing, so Arthur leaned in for a kiss.

“Terrifying,” he murmured, resting his forehead against Merlin’s for a moment, savouring the closeness. “Truly. Now get up. Today of all days you can’t hide away in here.”

“I’d like to,” Merlin sighed.

It was to be a momentous day. Arthur had sent his thanks to the Druid leader, said that he wanted peace, and wanted to work with them. Gwaine and Lancelot had returned to tell him that Iseldir had met them halfway, and that Aglain himself would come to Camelot and pay his respects to the king who was bringing magic back to the land.

Arthur suspected those respects would be aimed largely at his sorcerer, and possibly the crown princess as well.

“If everything goes wrong, it’s going to be my fault,” Merlin grumbled.

“You’ll just have to see that it doesn’t,” Arthur told him unsympathetically. Merlin was, after all, the reason the Druids were coming and everyone knew it.

Merlin didn’t look particularly happy at that. “I know.”

Arthur had spent a fair amount of time since his abrupt coronation worrying that he wouldn’t be accepted as king. Too many people had seen him in his enchanted state towards the end, he worried that he now had too much to prove to them all. There were uncertainties and fears that were held over from that time, mornings when he’d wake and just for a moment have to check that he was himself again, that the past few months hadn’t just been a dream.

Merlin had been strong through those months, always there when he felt uncertain, always covering for him, hiding any slips. It had never occurred to him that Merlin might worry about his own position, that being the first of his kind to hold a position at court would carry its own concerns and challenges. They were changing so much. For the first time he wondered just how much prophecy Merlin had been told by the dragon and the druids, and any other seer that he had encountered. On the day he’d set the dragon free, Merlin had come to bed totally exhausted. He’d said it was from controlling the beast, but Arthur wondered if it was something else. In his way, Merlin had taken on the crown as well.

“You’ll be brilliant,” Arthur assured him, and was rewarded with a small, uncertain smile. “You’re their famous Emrys. They’re probably only coming to see you anyway.”

“They have prophecies about you as well, Arthur.” Merlin gazed at him with that earnest expression he had sometimes. “You’re the king who changes everything, who unites the land. And you’re doing it. Every day I can see you moving a little closer. Morgana doesn’t wake up frightened any more, you know? She still sees things… but they’re good things. How could the druids not want to see you?”

Faintly Arthur could hear the sounds of his fabled kingdom. Servants moving around the castle, soft footsteps passing their door. Leon shouting at the knights somewhere down in the courtyard, preparing for the visit. He’d taken the position of first knight very seriously. Someone was arguing with him. It was probably Gwaine, always there to bring them all back down to the basest level. It was one of the things Arthur liked about him, though he’d never admit it. It didn’t seem to be much of the stuff of prophecy. And yet Merlin was gazing at him adoringly, and perhaps it was. Perhaps just that part of it was.

“Changing the world can wait for a few more minutes,” Arthur told him, and drew Merlin back down into the bed again.

Not as king and sorcerer, servant and isolated monster, and certainly not as the stuff of legends. Just Merlin and Arthur, loving, warm and sweet with the future all theirs for the making.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [ART - The Frog Prince](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2169492) by [Tarlan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan)




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